Of the Cursed Mirror and its Wicked Master (5)
by Deliverer
Summary: War between Cumberland, Scotland, and the Southern Isles has become a deadly slaughter, and Hans and Rhun are captured by the enemy. Suffering torture, starvation, and more, they'll need to start working together to have a hope of freedom again. As if that isn't bad enough, the wicked troll/sprite hybrid has escaped, and he's hell bent on taking on the Trolls. The mirror quivers...
1. Which Describes a Looking Glass

**Angel in the Snow, Demon in the Shadows 5: The Cursed Mirror**

(A/N: **Sequel to Strike for Love and Strike for Fear.** Sorry for the delay in this. Lots of things happening, so not a lot of time to post stuff. For that I apologize. I haven't gotten as far in this story as I would like to have gotten, but I wanted to start posting anyway in hopes posting it will begin to motivate me. Anyway, this story begins to take on a much darker take than previous ones. Remember when I said it won't be overly tragic? Yeah, about that... Well, you'll just have to see. Anyway, enjoy. I'm hesitant about promising daily updates, at least as I get closer to reaching what I've written up to, but it's most likely the way things will go, and with luck I'll be writing as I'm posting, so no need to worry yet.)

Which Describes a Looking-Glass and the Broken Fragments

 _You must attend to the commencement of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst, for he was a real demon._

Frozen

"And then the troll ate up all the mean old Billy Goats Gruff and was full for months after. The end," Pabbie said.

"I like that story, papa. I'm glad the troll got fed and got rid of those mean old Billy Goats," Little Bulda said from her tiny moss bed.

"I'm glad you liked it, darling," Pabbie said, smiling gently at his daughter. "Tomorrow I'll tell you the story of the three little trolls and the fat, juicy, wolf."

"Mmm," Bulda said, licking her lips.

"Now come, dearest. Give daddy a hug," Pabbie said. Bulda grinned, hugging her father tight.

"Gran' Pabbie! Your Majesty!" a frantic voice suddenly called.

Pabbie frowned worriedly and quickly turned, pulling away from a confused Bulda. "What's happened?" he demanded as one of his people rolled in.

"It's back! Oh gracious, he's back!" the troll fearfully said, near tears. "He'll take them again! We'll lose all the children we have _left_. Sir, he's… He's after the mirror…"

Pabbie's eyes widened. "No…" he breathed.

"Papa?" Bulda asked.

He turned swiftly to his girl, looking fearful. "Bulda, go hide. Now!" Pabbie ordered.

"But…" Bulda began.

"Now!" Pabbie yelled. He turned to the other. "Go out and tell the people to hide the little ones and adolescents. Quickly! As many as they can in however much time we have left." The other immediately rolled out to obey. Fearful, Bulda scrambled into a hiding hole. Gran Pabbie followed and kissed her head. "Stay safe. Do not come out no matter what!"

"Who's coming? What does he want?!" Bulda exclaimed.

"He… he is your half-brother… And he comes to reclaim the Mirror," Gran' Pabbie stated.

Frozen

 _One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. The most lovely landscape appeared like boiled spinach, and the people became hideous, and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed through the mind of anyone, it was misrepresented in the glass, and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention._

 _All who went to the demon's school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now for the first time, see what the world and mankind were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror. They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels…_

Frozen

"I-I have a-a brother?" Bulda asked, eyes bugging wide.

"In title and blood only," he darkly replied. "He will not see you as sister, for he cannot love or think in such terms, and for your own sake, do not think of him as brother," Pabbie answered. "I will tell you all in time, my dear; of how he came to be. For now, hide." With that he rolled out, and little Bulda was left alone and scared.

Gran' Pabbie walked out into the clearing, expression grave and serious and set. He looked upwards solemnly. Standing on a ledge, high above, stood a winged creature that looked neither man nor sprite nor troll. A hybrid. A hybrid of a most hideous and terrifying appearance. "You will not have it!" Gran' Pabbie shouted up to him after a long moment's silence between them.

"It is mine!" the hobgoblin shouted back. "You will not keep it from me, 'father'!"

"With it you warped and twisted innocent little ones and corrupted their hearts and minds beyond recovery. You took our children from us and made them your minions and army!" Pabbie replied angrily.

"And not one regrets it," the hobgoblin answered, smirking.

"Because they cannot! They don't even know what they once were and hardly know what they have become!" Pabbie yelled. "You will never have the mirror, Carabis!"

"Yes. I will," Carabis replied.

Immediately the hybrid flew into the air on the wings of a sprite, but with the roar of a troll. He shot down at a breakneck pace and threw Pabbie to the ground before sending a magical blast coursing through him. Pabbie screamed in pain. Immediately other trolls raced to help, but before they could reach the two, the hybrid let out a bellow. Bellows and screeches echoed back as suddenly, into the valley, poured masses of dark and twisted sprites and trolls! Some of which had once been the children of those racing to help the good king.

Gran' Pabbie knew he was on his own when he heard his people frantically pleading with and trying to call back their offspring to them. Trying to make them remember. It was all in vain, but it kept backup from reaching the good troll king, and drove off those protecting the cave that held the mirror. How could they kill their own children? No matter how corrupted the hobgoblin's school had made them, they still loved them. Frantically Pabbie battled against his child. No. Not his child. This thing had stopped being his child a long, long time ago. Perhaps it had never been. He had conceived this creature with a sprite foolishly, and that was _all_ he had done… And yet he still could not separate his child, his Carabis, from the monster…

Suddenly there was the sound of shrieking. Pabbie turned with a gasp. Flying from the cavern shot a group of sprites, cackling and carrying the mirror! "No!" Pabbie exclaimed. He cried out in pain as Carabis took the opportunity to strike, sending Gran' Pabbie flying. He landed hard on the ground and lay still with a pained groan.

"You have lost, Gran' Pabbie! Stop fighting and die! You failed your people. It is all you will ever do," the evil troll king darkly stated. He raised his hand, preparing a fatal spell.

"Papa!" a voice screamed. The evil troll screeched in pain as a powerful attack struck him. He staggered and looked over in shock, spotting a little troll girl.

"Bulda, stay back!" Pabbie frantically called.

"A sister… I have a sister, hmm? Intriguing," the evil troll said. "Hello, little one. My name is Carabis."

"Stay away from father!" Bulda shouted at him.

"I will, Bulda. _If_ you will come with me," the wicked sprite said.

"Don't listen to him, Bulda!" Gran' Pabbie shouted. Bulda looked fearful, shifting uncertainly.

"Come with me, daddy lives. Stay, daddy dies. You can't save him, infant," the wicked sprite said.

Bulda's eyes narrowed. "Watch me!" she shouted back, immediately attacking. He cried out in pain, falling back in shock. The young troll was strong, he would give her that. And had a bit of his attitude. Which would serve him well… But she had enough of their father in them that he could see she would not be easily moulded.

Carabis struck her with a painful magical blast, knocking her down. She cried out in pain. "Bulda!" Gran' Pabbie shouted desperately. Carabis dove, intending to take her up and kidnap her from her people. At his mercy, she would become one of his army.

"Leave her alone!" a voice shouted. Carabis cried out in surprise as he was knocked suddenly to the ground. He looked over. Another troll child.

"Cliff!" Bulda exclaimed. Cliff quickly rolled to her side, obviously scared but prepared to help Bulda defend Gran' Pabbie if he needed to.

Carabis growled low in his throat, both in anger and annoyance. He cursed his luck. Eyeing Bulda coldly, he debated whether or not to try and kidnap her again. Finally he decided against it. He had no time to waste on her anymore. Not at the moment. Perhaps one day he would be back for her. For now, he couldn't be bothered. Besides… They had a goal. Laughing cruelly, he took off into the sky. Up, up, up the sprites flew, the corrupted trolls cheering from below…

Frozen

 _…_ _But the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it, till at last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces._

In the Valley of the Living Rock

The good trolls watched in horror as the shards toppled from the sky; scattering in the winds, shattering on the ground, gliding far away all over the whole world... The aurora borealis those shards reflected had never looked so horrible and terrifying, and screams could be heard in the distant human populations as the shards stuck so many victims the world over. "Daddy?" Bulda fearfully asked. Gran' Pabbie was silent, drawing her close. "Daddy, what's going to happen?" Bulda asked.

"Terrible, terrible things, my love… So terrible that I fear the world will never be the same again…" Gran' Pabbie answered.

On the Southern Isles

"He is so beautiful, my love," the young king said, beaming down at the newborn that his wife held in her arms. The young queen grinned tiredly up at him as the infant fed, and as her husband combed his fingers through her hair. He bent, kissing her lips lovingly. "You did so well, Anne-Marie."

"Thank you, my darling. I wish it had been a girl, though. We have had two boys already," the Queen answered.

"I'm afraid I cannot promise a girl will ever be conceived, as much as I would like for there to be," he ruefully said. "You well know my family has a tendency to have an overwhelming number of male dominated offspring."

"The sacrifices I make for you, Hans," she teased softly, kissing her husband again.

"Caleb, Jürgen, come! See your new brother!" the king called out. Caleb, two years old, walked towards his parents and climbed onto his mommy's bed. Jürgen, one year old, alternated between toddling and falling over to them.

He reached up for the king. "Up!" he demanded, frowning. The king chuckled, lifting the little one onto his mother's bed. Caleb and Jürgen both crawled tentatively over towards the new baby. Jürgen plopped down and watched it, sucking his thumb.

Caleb reached out, lightly touching the newborn's skin in awe. "It so toft!" he said in amazement.

"His name is Lars," the king gently said to his eldest. "Do you like that name."

"Yeah!" Caleb said.

"No! Other one!" Jürgen insisted.

"You may call him other one if you wish, Jürgen," the queen teased gently. Eventually he would outgrow it, after all.

"Other, other one fo' me," Caleb said.

"Yes, Caleb, he is the other, other one for you," the queen said, giggling gently. The king knelt on the bed and drew his family near, gushing over the newborn and his queen, and doting on his two toddlers.

Frozen

 _But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the world into every country. When one of these tiny atoms flew into a person's eye, it stuck there unknown to him, and from that moment he saw everything through a distorted medium, or could see only the worst side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror. Some few persons even got a fragment of the looking-glass in their hearts, and this was very terrible, for their hearts became cold like a lump of ice._

Frozen

The king sat with his queen on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The sunset was breathtaking, the sound of the waves peaceful. The toddlers lay cuddled together on the grass, fast asleep. They lay beneath a tree, and the newborn was sleeping soundly on a soft blanket close to his brothers' sides. He was down for the night. Or at least until his next feeding. The King and Queen whispered sweet nothings gently to one another, nuzzling softly and lovingly. "I am not sure how many children I will be able to bear," the queen mused to her king.

"What does it matter to me if you wished for only one child or none at all? I will delight in anything I have with you, be it children or otherwise," the king answered. "You are no breeding horse, beloved. I did not marry you for the sake of your bearing me heirs. I would have died happily if I had only you for the rest of my days."

She smiled at him. "I love you," she said softly.

"There is nothing I would not do for your sake, so deep is my own love for you," the king answered. "You and the children are all that matter to me in this world. I would give up even my kingdom, even my life and freedom, if it kept you all safe."

"Will you love all future children the same?" she teased with a faux frown.

"I will," the king answered. " _All_ of them. There is no child of mine that would be hated by his, or with luck her, father."

"You are a good man," she said, laying back in the grass and closing her eyes, face turned skyward.

He lay next to her, softly pressing his lips to her own before drawing back. "Not half as good as you deserve," he whispered gently to her.

"I would have no other besides you," she answered, opening her eyes, lightly touching his cheek with her fingertips. "No matter the choices presented to me." He squeezed her hand lightly, smiling. She smiled back then looked at the sky again. A puzzled expression came to her face. "What is that?" she asked.

The king frowned and turned curiously, watching the sky and squinting towards the twinkling object that seemed to be falling from it. It was large. Too large and too close for him to be comfortable with. "Get the children," he said seriously, standing and pulling her to her feet. Worry filled her eyes and she quickly went to her little ones, kneeling next to them but not waking them just yet. "Dammit, it's coming for us! Anne-Marie, run!" the king shouted, suddenly panicked as he turned to her frantically.

The Queen gasped, seizing the newborn and the one-year-old. "Caleb, get up!" she cried out to her third child.

Caleb started awake, looking confused and afraid. "Mommy?" he asked.

"Run!" she ordered.

Caleb was totally lost at this point, but he knew in his gut now wasn't the time to ask questions. He staggered up and followed mama as quickly as he could. The king raced after them. The object in the sky was hurtling nearer and nearer! Striking a branch, it broke into two piece and toppled towards little Caleb. "Caleb!" the king shouted, lunging. He threw himself quickly into the path of the projectiles. Better they impale him than his eldest son.

"Daddy!" Caleb screamed.

The queen gasped, looking back, and her eyes widened in horror as she saw the objects, sharp like small icicles or broken shards, strike her husband's chest and head at a velocity far too high to be harmless. "No!" she shrieked. Jürgen was crying now, confused and awake. So was the newborn. The Queen turned, racing back to the king who lay on the ground, drenched in blood. Caleb was weeping, trying to wake the man up, screaming for him to come back… And he did…

But he was not ever the same again…

He awoke under the doctor's care. The shards, whatever they had been, had struck him in the heart and in the head. By all accounts, he should be dead, but he wasn't. Upon hitting his body, the objects had shattered further, piercing into his skin everywhere they could, entering every crevice and opening they could manage to land in or on.

And the king felt nothing…

It was all he felt ever again for as long as he lived…

Frozen

 _A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as window-panes; it would have been a sad thing to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles. This was dreadful for those who wore them, for they could see nothing either rightly or justly._

In Britain, Many Years Later

The Duke of Cumberland wept, clinging to the body of his wife with one arm, and clutching the tiny form of the infant in the other. There was no crying, no heartbeat, no sound of movement, no sign of life. He had lost them both, he knew. He felt the doctors take the unmoving babe from him, torn from its mother's womb far too early. They had had no choice. She had been sick. She had died of her illness. If they hadn't taken the precious cargo she was carrying out, it would have passed _with_ her... But it was gone anyway, wasn't it? He listened to the doctors frantically trying to revive the tiny little body. There was nothing.

"God, please... take my life," the broken man whispered softly. "Let me die."

"He's breathing!" one of the doctors exclaimed suddenly in shock and disbelief. "It's alive! Hurry, coax it farther. Don't let it go."

The Duke sharply looked over, eyes wide and filling with a cautious hope. He didn't dare believe it would be alright. Not until the danger period was passed, however long _that_ was. He looked down at his wife, anguish in his eyes, and kissed her softly on the lips. "You did so well, darling... Do you see it? Do you feel it? Your babe will live. He must. I promise you he will, and he will know the great woman his mother was... Thank you... Oh how I wish you were here... He is so beautiful."

The crying began. The newborn was awake. "My Duke?" a nurse's voice asked from close at hand. The Duke looked up at her. "Here. Your son," she said, handing the teensy little bundle to him. The man looked at it in awe and wonder. He hesitated to touch it, almost afraid that if he did it would break. Soon, though, he delicately took the baby and held it close.

The infant began trying to suckle. The Duke of Cumberland smiled weakly, tears burning his eyes. "You will not get anything from me, little love," he whispered softly to it. "I am sorry... I will love and care for you all of the days of your life, my treasure, I promise. You will be my world. You are." Gently he pressed a kiss to the babe's head.

Some Years After

"Daddy!" the little one cried out, racing into the throne room as his father finished court.

The Duke turned and grinned. "There you are, my boy!" he said, bending down and letting the child race into his arms. He laughed, lifting him nimbly up and tossing him into the air. The boy screamed and laughed in delight. "How was your day today, darling?"

"It was okay," the boy answered.

"Just okay?" the Duke asked.

"You weren't there!" the boy said.

"You are a daddy's boy to be sure, Aaron," the Duke teased with a laugh. "I've spoiled you far too much, I think. Now, what lessons must you always remember above all else?"

The boy thought a moment then smiled. "Kindness, mercy, forgiveness, pity, honesty, empathy, love, fairness, and equality," the child recited.

"What does it mean to be kind?" the Duke asked, holding his son close and smiling at him.

"To not be like the King of the Southern Isles?" the boy asked.

"Aaron," the Duke warned, frowning. "I'm aware I've said some things about that man, many of which I regret. I really must work on that. I will be sure not to say such things again. I see it's doing _you_ no good. Tsk, tsk, I'm being a bad example, it seems."

"No you're not!" the child protested.

The Duke chuckled, smiling at him. "Answer the question in proper now, son," he said.

The boy blushed faintly. "To be kind is to help people and to listen to them and to do things for them without expecting anything in return," he said.

"Good boy. What does it mean to be merciful and forgiving?" the Duke asked.

"To always show even those who have wronged you kindness, and to wish them no ill. Spare those who have hurt you, forgive them their wrongs as much as you can. Never hurt them back because hurting them back just makes them want to hurt you more, but doing good for them makes them sometimes less inclined to hurt you, and one day they may show you the same mercy. Even if they don't, never regret being good to them," Aaron said.

"You are an insightful little fellow, aren't you? I taught you the principal, but none of that. Good lad," the Duke said. "Now what of..."

"My Lord Duke?" the messenger said, coming in.

The Duke looked over with a curious frown and put his son down. He knelt, smiling at the child. "We will continue this later on. Recite to yourself what all the other traits mean to you and to me in the meantime. I will come to you shortly, my darling, and then we'll play a little bit, alright?"

"Okay," the boy replied. Quickly he scrambled off.

Frozen

The Duke turned to the messenger. "What is it?" he questioned.

"A gift has come to you from an unknown sender," the messenger replied. "My lord, perhaps a guard should open it?"

"If it's something dangerous, I will not have anyone else's life put on the line for mine," the Duke replied.

"Sir, your son..." one of the guards began.

"He will have his father a long time yet," the Duke vowed, going to the package. Swiftly he opened it and leapt back quickly. When nothing happened, he approached it and looked inside.

The Duke's eyes widened and he gazed in awe and wonder at the wrapped contents. Two stained glass windows of a curious sort, and a gigantic mirror made of a single piece of broken glass, jagged and formidable but beautiful. It needed no stand, for it stood on its own. Along with it came many smaller mirrors, also cut from one piece of glass. The windows, for their part, were most lovely, and the Duke ordered them inserted into the palace immediately. The mirrors he ordered laid around in a room specifically meant for them; a decorative idea borrowed from the French ruler who had, had a whole hallway of Versailles devoted to mirrors. The large mirror would be the centerpiece. It was this room into which the windows also were inserted. It was into this room that no one was allowed but the Duke of Cumberland…

But as time passed, he grew darker and darker. As time passed, he would enter that room and not leave it for hours on hours, sometimes even days, and only come out when he was on the verge of dying of thirst. Soon all that remained of the person who had once been lauded as fair and just and good and decent, was a shell. It was not long after, that fair and just and decent became cruel and unjust and merciless. But that was far from the whole story…

Frozen

 _At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook. It tickled him to see the mischief he had done. There were still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them…_


	2. Come Back

Come Back

 _At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook. It tickled him to see the mischief he had done. There were still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them._

Hans laid down the quill and read over what he had written with a frown. There was no way he could be clearer in describing the mirror's properties. He had been meaning to write of it a long time now. He had simply never gotten around to it until this moment. Frankly, the only reason he was writing now was because he feared he might not get another chance to. It was hardly two months into this war, and already the casualties all around were into the thousands. It was a bloodbath out there, and worst of all was that he wasn't in his element. There was no threat on the seas, anymore. This battle was on land in a foreign country. More specifically, Cumberland and the surrounding areas. Not to say wars weren't at risk of being fought back on the Isles, the Duke of Cumberland wasn't one to trap himself in one place, but here was where the vast majority of the battle was taking place for now. They wanted to _keep_ it here and off of their shores. This was the front… And he was on it. He damned his sentence now more than ever.

"Hey!" he protested, feeling the paper taken from his hand. He looked angrily over. Rhun and Duach were there, reading it through in interest.

"You're still obsessed with that mirror?" Duach incredulously asked.

"Why shouldn't he be? It isn't as if he's useful for anything else," Rhun said, smirking cruelly at his little brother.

"Here I dared think we were moving passed this. I should have known better," Hans bitterly replied, snatching the papers back and neatly fixing them. "Don't you two have people to be killing?"

"Don't _you_?" Duach replied.

"I got back to my tent not even an hour ago!" Hans defended.

"Welcome to the front lines," Duach answered. "Suit up. We're being assailed. Yet again. Dammit, we can't keep up with onslaughts like this."

"We expect you out in five minutes, Hans, so you'd better make it two," Rhun added, leaving with his un-identical twin. Hans looked ruefully over at the ice bird perched on a stand. He had yet to open the letter from Elsa. It seemed it would have to wait a little longer. He gave a frustrated sigh and quickly began preparing to go out and risk life and limb for something he shouldn't even have an obligation to fight for. He went to the bird, pet it lightly, tucked the pendant into his shirt, then followed his siblings swiftly. His siblings. All of which were here, including even Moren.

Frozen

Hans moved towards the eldest brother, who stood atop a hill looking down at something. Hans came up alongside him and followed his gaze. Down the hills from their camp, they could see the fighting plainly in the distance. "This was a fool's errand," Hans said. "You couldn't have sent Kelin-Sel to scout for an English maid?"

"Not when ties with Scotland are so precariously balanced," Moren answered.

"Britain is the superpower! What would it matter if Scotland hated us? We would have _them_ ," Hans argued.

"Scotland is tied to us both in blood and ancestry. Where is your loyalty, Hans?" Moren chastised, frowning at him unimpressed.

"My loyalty is with you," Hans answered. "As much as it shouldn't be. And that's a new enough loyalty as it is; and precariously balanced at the best of times."

"At least you have an inkling of it," Moren scoffed.

"Quickly losing loyalty to you, big brother," Hans warned. Moren shot him a disgusted and annoyed look then sighed, rolling his eyes. Siblings. Humph. "Where am I going?" Hans asked.

"With Rhun's regiment," Moren answered. "And there you will stay for a fair while."

"Great," Hans said with a scoff. Either one of the twins were among the _last_ brothers he'd want to be teamed up with.

"This too shall pass, Hans," Moren reassured. Hans sighed and nodded, looking towards the battle field again. Hopefully it passed sooner than later, he dryly said to himself.

Frozen

 _Dear Hans,_

 _I could not wait any longer to send to you. Not when in every paper, and in every mouth, news of the nightmare this war has become is touted loud and clear. What is happening, your Grace? Where are you?_

 _With Love,_

 _Elsa._

…

 _My Dear Elsa,_

 _I wish more than anything that I could tell you the news you hear is exaggerated; that this is only another skirmish that will die out within a year or two. Wishing is_ _ **all**_ _I can do, though. This battle between Britain and Scotland has become nothing short of devastating. The casualties have come to far exceed our expectations, and there is no sign of a respite… And here I am, in the thick of it._

 _My Lady Queen, do not let what I am about to tell you frighten you, for I have faced worse odds in times past. I am on the front lines, fighting on the shores of great Britannia. As it was sentenced, so it will be, but if any part of you is concerned for my sake, I swear to you by all that is holy you need not worry for my falling in battle._

 _Here, on the fields of Great Britain, I have witnessed more death in the last few weeks than I have in the entirety of my life. Here I have taken more lives than I ever have before, and this is even_ _ **with**_ _my showing more mercy than I have in my lifetime._

 _Before this war the blood of more victims than I can ever recall to mind was on my hands. Now that number has doubled, and a good portion of that blood was spilled because of my own foolishness. I dared to spare a man at my mercy. The next day one of our camps was attacked, and every soldier massacred. The man I dared spare had come back in the night with his regiment and wiped them all out. I could have hung myself on hearing of it. I am surprised that Rhun didn't do it_ _ **himself**_ _. He knew I was the cause, and yet he spoke of it to no one. I wish he had. I wish the gods had struck me down._

 _I dared spare another one, today. Against my brother's orders. But he was so young, only a child. For god's sake, the boy couldn't have been more than_ _thirteen_ _, if that! I just couldn't do it. I suppose time has yet to tell if it was another mistake. I suspect that if it was, this will be the last letter you will receive for me. I will more likely than not be court marshalled and shot. Would you mourn me if that was so, I wonder? Would anyone?_

 _Currently I am confined to my tent under heavy guard. An unofficial prison for insubordination that my brother had me thrust into for defying him. The orders are shoot to kill, if I should dare try and leave it, but frankly I am beyond done with Rhun's little snit. I have half a mind to walk out there and dare him to see his own order through. Then self-preservation kicks in and I give myself a mental thrashing for even thinking about it. Rhun is very… consistent, is the word I will go with. When he says something, more often than not he sees it through._

 _I miss you, Elsa. Dearly. You, Arendelle, home, some semblance of normality… I am so tired of death and war and suffering… I am so sick of seeing blood and of spilling it. Moren claims we fight so that we may be at peace; yet we have been fighting so that we may be at peace for so, so long… We put down one enemy and then what? Another rises up. Then another, then another, then another. Scotland, Norway, Britain, it will never end! I just… I want it to stop! I just want it all to stop! …But it will not… It will not, and we, I, will never be at peace…_

 _May you and Arendelle never share in the cruel fate of the Isles, my Queen. May you always be at peace and safe in your neutrality. May you never in all you days see the suffering and death and pain that has swaddled my brothers and I in its embrace since we first came to be._

 _I wish to god I was free. I wish to god I could never see war again… Pray for us, my Lady Queen, that we may see home again._

 _Eternally,_

 _Hans_

…

 _Dear Hans,_

 _How can this not frighten me? To hear that you stand on the front lines of a battle costing thousands of lives? Swear to me I need not worry over and over and over again, and I will still worry. More than worry, I will dread with every day that passes that you have fallen, until I should hear from you again. Why must you cause me sleepless or restless nights? You of all people._

 _Why do you even ask if I would mourn, should you be court marshalled and executed? Of course I will. I will weep, and I will not curse a single tear that falls from my eyes for your sake._

 _I am glad you spared the child, and enraged that you are being punished for it. I swear to god on high that if you try to do something as foolish as leave that tent before Rhun gives you permission, I will hang you myself for your stupidity. When you do leave, however, show this next paragraph of my letter to Rhun._

 _I promise you, Rhun, that if you dare try anything against your brother, you will be suffering my wrath. I should hope that crossing me is the last thing you want to deal with. How_ _ **dare**_ _you punish Hans for sparing a boy? I believe perhaps it should be_ _ **you**_ _confined to your tent for not ordering him to spare the little one in the first place!_

 _Hans, I wish I could be there with you… I wish I could make your suffering end. I wish I could make you feel as if everything was alright again. I wish I could make you feel safe and happy, and not lost in this anguish I read into your writing, and see in the stain of tears upon the paper. I wish I could make you free…_

 _You will see home again, my lord. I will be here still._

 _Love,_

 _Elsa_

…

 _Dear Elsa,_

 _I wish you would not lose sleep over a man such as me. Am I worth so much to you that it would cause you physical and mental anguish of that magnitude? When you lie awake in the nights, remember the wrongs that I did against you and your sister. Remember the monster, do not see the man. May that image help you to rest better._

 _Your little note to Rhun shamed my brother, Elsa. He asks I send you his deepest apologies, and says he did not think before he judged and spoke. It has been many years since he has felt able to differentiate teenager from man, or cared to, and so he did not see the boy as a child at the time until my actions forced him to confront it, and later your words. He expresses his regret and guilt, and begs your forgiveness. He has also allowed me to wander freely again. It is some form of respite at least, albeit not the form of respite I wish for._

 ** _You_** _make my suffering end, Elsa; and make me feel as if all is right again. With every letter you write to me, I feel the crushing emptiness ease off of my heart. I feel light again, and so much less stifled. I do not feel, when I read your messages, like a drowning man anymore. I feel as if a hand has come down and pulled me from the watery depths to safety. I know it sounds corny, I believe is the word Kristoff uses, but it is so._

 _You say you will still be there, and yet you tell me you will wait for no man. Which is it, my lady queen?_

 _Love,_

 _Hans_

…

 _My Dear Hans,_

 _You are worth more to me than you know. More than I ever thought you_ _ **would**_ _be, in my eyes. I do not want to forever remember the monster you were. It will not be forgotten, not truly, but that is not the image I will let soothe me. The image of you safe and with us again, or on the shores of your home, will be the one that soothes me._

 _Tell him I accept his apology and forgive him. Tell him that I am glad he is starting to see, again, when a man is not a man and is in fact a boy. Thank him, for me, for lifting your sentence._

 _If what you say is true, and I do make your suffering end, then may I continue to soothe you through our letters. It is, after all, all that I have, given I cannot be there physically. It will be enough, I hope. It has always been before… You make my emptiness go away as well…_

 _I will wait for no man, but I will not have to wait for you. You will return very soon, and all will be well. You did, after all, tell me that you would never make me wait._

 _Eternally,_

 _Elsa_

…

 _Dearest Elsa,_

 _You do not know what your words mean to me, that you will not see the monster but instead will see the good. How I could repay you for such a boon I will never know. Just thank you._

 _I passed your message to Rhun. He will sleep easier now. Again I thank you._

 _I hope I continue to be able to make your emptiness go away for a long time to come yet. I have no immediate plans of dying, after all, though every day that passes I fear it more and more._

 _When I told you that I would never make you wait, I meant that I would never ask you to make me a promise that you would wait for me. I would never ask you to bind yourself and your loyalty to my memory. Then, should I die or disappear, you would not have to hold onto a feeling of a misguided loyalty. You will live your life as you see fit, and the shadow of a dead man will never linger over you forever._

 _Eternally,_

 _Hans_

…

 _Dear Hans,_

 _I know what you meant by telling me you would never make me wait. I know it all too well… But that is not the way I choose to see it. I choose to dare hope and to look at the optimistic side of it. I will not wait for you, or your brothers, because I will not need to. You will come back victorious and triumphant, and here we will be. All of us._

 _Do you know, I wonder, that I had all but chosen either you or Iscawin as the victor in the suitor games? …I would have chosen you… Or him._

 _Love,_

 _Elsa._

…

 _Dear Elsa,_

 _I know._

 _Love,_

 _Hans_

 _…_

 _Dear Hans,_

 _Promise me you will return._

 _I miss you… I pray you will come back soon._

 _Love,_

 _Elsa_

 _…_

 _Dear Elsa,_

 _Is something wrong? I am not sure what makes me feel as if something is, but I sense you are bothered by something. Share it with me, please._

 _Love,_

 _Hans_

 _…_

 _Dear Hans,_

 _I feel alone. Alone and afraid and lost. I don't know what it is that's come over me, just… I feel as if I am fighting another battle against my own mind and feelings and despairs. It is not you that has caused this distress, I will promise you that. Only I am to blame for the way I feel, and the way I feel… It frightens me. It frightens me because I feel so lost and suddenly long so much to run away and never come back, or to disappear. I don't know what to do or what to think. I don't know how to help myself feel better. I've tried reading, spending time with my loved ones—at least as much as I can—doing things that I love, and still I feel… I feel hollow and unmotivated and totally and utterly... empty, is the term I will use. Just empty. Lost. Trapped. I feel trapped in a cage._

 _I feel like I am fighting that war again, you and I spoke of long ago in Weselton… Only this time you are not here to fight the battle with me, and I feel hopeless. I don't know what to do. I just want it to end._

 _Apologies for my grim talk,_

 _Elsa_

 _…_

 _Dearest Elsa,_

 _I promised you then that you would never fight alone. I mean that promise to its fullest still. Though I am not there beside you, I remain with you in heart and soul and mind. I suffer with you, know that, and though I can only now reach out in letter, I am still reaching out. I am still there. Feel me, hear me, and know that you are not alone. You do not need to be afraid. I know you cannot stop being afraid on command, but I say it anyway. You do not need to be scared. I am here. Do not let go._

 _Never apologize for your pain._

 _Eternally yours,_

 _Hans_

 _…_

 _Dearest Hans,_

 _Come back._

 _Eternally,_

 _Elsa._

 _…_

No letter came again…


	3. The Prince's Strategy

The Prince's Strategy

( A/N: The love letter in this one is actually a letter H.C. Andersen did write to Edvard Collin. At least part of it. Assume he wrote the whole thing, but what I've written is all that I could find of it.)

The flap to Moren's tent was thrust open. Moren, discussing a strategy with the Scottish King, looked over. His eyes widened as in came his brothers. They were carrying a badly injured Duach inside. His eyes were shut tight in pain and he was clutching his side. "What happened?" Moren immediately demanded as Franz and Rhun set him down on the bed. Mael immediately began to tend to him.

"He was caught in a crossfire. Lucky bastard got off light compared to some of the men," Jürgen answered. Most had died instantly. Many more would never recover from their wounds and die here in agony. Others still would never recover from their wounds in other ways.

Moren looked over his siblings grimly. There wasn't one who hadn't at least been injured once thus far. A good deal of them had come too close to being dead than he cared to think on. He sighed in frustration, drawing a hand through his hair. "This damnable war will make me an old man before my time," Moren muttered. Rather, his brothers would. He looked back at the strategy he and the Scottish King were discussing. The Scottish King was exhausted, it was plain to see. The man almost seemed on the verge of surrendering. "Come. We must discuss this elsewhere. With the other allies," Moren said to him.

"Aye," the king agreed, nodding.

"Let me come," Hans said. "I might be able to help!"

"You? You whose only battles have been fought at sea and whose only strategies center on water warfare? Unlikely, Hans," Rhun replied with a scoff.

"Don't underestimate me! My strategies have saved my men from the worst of situations. Let me at least _try_ ," Hans insisted. "Moren, please!"

Moren eyes his sibling a long moment. "You can't seriously be thinking about this!" Rhun protested.

Moren gave Rhun a sharp and warning glare before turning back to Hans. "Very well. Come, baby brother."

"Unbelievable," Rhun said, rolling his eyes.

Hans breathed a sigh. "Thank you," he said to Moren. He threw an ugly look at Rhun. "Go crawl into a trench," he growled at him.

"Precisely what I'm about to do," Rhun said.

"No you aren't. You're all staying here. You aren't going back out on that battle field. There's something I need to discuss with the others, and until that's done you stay put," Moren warned.

"But…" Rhun began.

"Runo needs you now, Rudi," Moren seriously stated. Rhun paused and looked back at his twin, who was looking worriedly and slightly fearfully at him. He sighed and returned to the other's side, kneeling at it and taking Duach's hand tightly and reassuringly, bumping his forehead with his own lightly.

Frozen

Hans entered the main tent behind Moren. The other kings of the other lands allied with them were there, including Prince Eric's father, who hadn't been about to send his son into _this_ war. Better _he_ died, the king figured, than his only child. The monarch had lived his life. His son had only just begun his. The kings looked oddly at Hans, then inquisitively at Moren. "He believes he may be able to help," Moren said.

"How can he possibly be of any aid to us at all? He is a sailor, not a warrior," the King of Denmark said with a scoff.

Hans's eyes narrowed. "I was taught land combat just as well as any of my brothers," he replied to the man. He excelled at sea, yes, but he wasn't entirely worthless on land. "And strategizing is something I've done my entire life. It was that or die."

"Don't you dare bring family issues into this," Moren warned, glaring at his sibling.

Hans fought the urge to retort. He had be mature here and not seem like a petty kid brother, if he hoped to earn any modem of respect among these men. "I have allies in powerful nations, one in Germany. It seems to me only Cumberland and the areas closest to it in trade and location have involved themselves in this war." And they were _still_ more powerful than them, because Cumberland had stretched out of Britain and into allied countries and kingdoms, recruiting help from them as well. "We may still be able to swing this war if I can request aid from said allies. Sort of an inside attack. I am personal friends with the hereditary German Duke of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, Carl Alexander, and personal friends with a man by the name of Edvard Collin who holds great sway in his region. They will be able to help at least keep us all from being massacred. This war is lost and was from the start. Britain is too powerful and too closely tied with the rest of Europe. And us."

Frankly he thought Scotland would be better off surrendering, but then he could understand why they hadn't. They wouldn't let themselves be part of this 'United Kingdom' nonsense that Britain was going for. They were too stubborn for that. He understood their desire to remain independent from the quickly and massively grown nation. "We will no' give up!" the Scottish King shot.

"I'm not asking you to," Hans replied. "We may lose this war, but if nothing else you'll be free of their foreign chains and left alone once and for all by its close. They just need to be reminded of their little deal to leave you be. If I'm going to help, I need to know what all of you are thinking."

"I want Denmark out," the Danish King stated flatly. "I am sick and tired of watching the lives of our young men cut short in an unbeatable war! Unfortunately, given the Southern Isles' involvement in this slaughter, I have an obligation to fulfil."

"I am here for the sake of my son's friendship with Prince Justic of the Southern Isles, and for no other reason than that," Eric's father stated. "Had I not come, he probably would have launched his own independent campaign and been slaughtered on the battlefield."

"I, for my part, offered you help for the sake of Queen Elsa's peace of mind," the Duke of Weselton said to Hans. "Otherwise I wouldn't be anywhere _near_ this war, and no doubt Norway feels the same."

"Aye," the Norse King stated. Given Arendelle was part of both it and Sweden, mostly Norway, Norway felt obligated to defend it, given Arendelle had taken on Sweden's policy of neutrality rather than their own policy of, well, anything but.

The King of Scotland was quiet, visibly upset at hearing all of this, but not admitting it out loud. "We will not abandon you, Scotland," Moren stated, also noting the man's silence. "That I promise. As much as we all wish to, we won't."

The Scottish King sighed. "I want this to end," he said hollowly. "I never wanted this slaughter."

Moren nodded and turned to Hans. "As for me, I want you home. _All_ of you. Unfortunately, I can't _spare_ all of you and send you back… But I can send some… An heir _must_ be on the throne of the Southern Isles…" he said.

Hans turned to him. "I'm not leaving," he firmly said. "My loyalty will be with you right to the end of this battle. As much as I'd rather it not be, it is, and it was part of my sentence to stay here anyway."

"Hans…" Moren began.

"Stop sparing me punishments, Moren. Stop _trying_ to," Hans insisted. Lessons would never be learned that way, after all. Not that he hadn't learned his lesson already, but still.

Frozen

Moren looked coldly at him. Soon he sighed, looking back at the other kings. "I intend to send my brothers back. At least a good few of them," he said. Besides, the fewer brothers he had on the field, the less likely that one would end up dead. He couldn't deny selfishness in his decision. There was a good bit of it. "The triplets, Iscawin, Kelin-Sel, Franz, Justic… I wish I could spare Jürgen, but he is among the best of us in fighting prowess. The only reason I can get away with sending the ambassador back is because here Justic will do no good. The Duke of Cumberland will not reason, and so Justic is most useful at home, sitting on the throne as acting regent and attempting to gain us more allies. I wish I could send Duach back, but as my main General that will not do, and god forbid _Rhun_ leave his side. Mael is invaluable as a doctor, but he will be pulled out of active combat and held off for when there is no other choice. His magic is powerful and will be our trump card, should things get to the point of borderline annihilation."

"Which leaves six of us still in the fighting, five given Mael is out for now, and four if Duach isn't going back to battle any time soon," Hans said, already formulating a plan in his head as he eyed the maps laid out on the table.

The young prince took in where the most concentrated forces were, and where ambushes would most likely be set up on Britain's part. He saw where counter ambushes were planned and where the lines had been set. At sea things were so different… Less topographic nonsense to deal with. The major threat out there was the weather patterns and rocks, if they happened too close to land. The occasional iceberg or ice flow, maybe, but other than that not much else, and you could see attacks coming from miles away and judge if you could take them. All of that was both a good thing and a bad thing. On land there were places to hide. There was nowhere to hide on the sea, unless you were close to land or rocky outcroppings, or caught in a fog or heavy rain. On land, if you went down, you could still crawl away and somehow escape or buy yourself a little more time at least. On the sea, if you went down odds were you'd _stay_ down. And by down he meant _deep_ down. Fish food. No man alive could swim an ocean. It didn't take long before hypothermia set in. If you weren't close to land, you were dead. On land you could retreat and escape. There was no escaping an ocean if a ship sank. On land you could ally yourself to the enemy. You could make bargains, you could plead mercy. You couldn't ally yourself to fish and sharks in the brine. You couldn't plead mercy from wind and waves and beasts. On land you could be captured, and that in turn gave you a chance at living either by escaping, being rescued, or being ransomed. You couldn't hope for capture in the sea, and the cold waters wanted for no ransom. All you could hope was that someone would come, or if they didn't that death didn't end up being too painful or prolonged.

He began humming softly, the song from the story 'The Steadfast Tin Soldier' that he had told to Elsa… Elsa… Subconsciously his hand closed gently on the pendant clasped about his neck, and he thought.

 _Farewell, farewell, O warrior brave,_

 _Nobody can from Death thee save…_

"I have a plan," he soon said. "But I won't promise you it won't be costly if anything goes wrong."

"Show us," Moren stated, gesturing to the map.

"When you're losing a war, the best thing to do is make the enemy think you're _winning_ it," Hans replied, leaning over the map. He began to outline his strategy, explaining each step as he went with the occasional interjection or improvement from one of the kings or rulers, and also factoring Duke Carl Alexander and Edvard Collin into the plan. He didn't want Collin executed for treason, so his role would be less combat more acting. With luck, it would all work in their favor.

Later That Night

When the war horns blew, the soldiers of Cumberland and its allies jolted awake, confused. They sounded close. Too close! Immediately the men were shouting orders and quickly gearing up for war, racing outside of their camps to face whatever was coming. When they came out into the night, though, they gasped in horror. All around them were bright lights covering the hills. A whole army was descending, it seemed, and the war horns sounded for miles, which implied other camps and strongholds had been surrounded like this as well and caught off guard. Horses galloped down the hill. As they neared, the soldiers prepared to fight. But when the horses drew near…

The eyes of the soldiers widened in fear and horror. Their mouths fell open in terror and screams erupted. Screams of 'bodies' and 'ghosts'. Sure enough, galloping towards them were corpses seated upon horses! _Hundreds_ of corpses, dressed in British uniform! Had the enemy truly killed so many men without their even knowing? Surely they were a force of reckoning beyond even their wildest imaginations!

From above, the allies of Scotland observed. "The first wave of bodies is down. Our fallen dressed in Cumberland uniform… It sickens me," the Scottish King said.

"It means victory or death," Hans replied. "The British are men just like we are. They're just on the opposite side. This plan will work, I promise you that. This 'dishonor' to the bodies won't be for nothing."

"I hope you're right, laddie," the king answered.

"Prepare the second wave!" Eric's father commanded his own. The second wave of mounted bodies would be dressed in their own uniform, enemy or ally, swords bound to them. Already the Cumberland forces were scattering in horror, shouting things about the dead come back to life. There was chaos in the camp. The second wave would make more still. After that, they marched.

"What was phase two?" the Duke of Weselton wondered.

"Take the bodies of those who fall here in this surprise attack, then play it like Vlad Dracul. Dress them in the enemy uniform and put them up on pikes around camp as an intimidation tactic," Hans answered. "Make ourselves look more barbaric than we are."

"I spot numerous traces of historical influences in this plot besides Vlad the Impaler," Rhun remarked to Hans.

"You're right. This riding dead bodies into battle is a tactic that was used a long time ago, only improvised. I forget the story, but some king or General was slain on the field and asked to be put up on his horse as a body and sent against the enemy. They were so terrified they fled. A good many died in the panicked stampede. Making the enemy believe they are surrounded by more force than they really are is more a Biblical influence," Hans said. He needed to review some history lessons with Lars, he determined. "And now all three of these tactics are being put to use again. If nothing else, at least we'll have a short victory."

"Foot soldiers, forward march!" Duach shouted out to the men. Immediately they all raced down to enter the panicked fray and cut down whoever they could. Though many fell, far, far more were spared, and the enemy was driven off in a shaming retreat.

Frozen

The troops returned victorious, cheering loudly and excitedly talking amongst themselves. Hans smiled and bore up under the slaps on the back and head rubs and claps on the shoulder and all other manner of physical contact they were putting on him while they praised his plan. The hero of the day, they called him. Most respect he'd gotten in his entire life. Normally he would be relishing in it and milking it for all it was worth, but he hadn't received a letter from Elsa yet. He wanted to see if one would come. He needed to reply to her and tell her of this victory. It was a great win in their corner, something that even had the potential to turn the war, but he wasn't holding his breath. Never get too optimistic, was his policy. For which a good number of his brothers chastised him, but his belief was that if you didn't expect too much or expect too great of things, you'd never be disappointed or caught off guard. As soon as possible, he slipped away from the crowds and went to his tent.

Entering his tent, he spotted a message on the desk. Maybe it was hers. He went to it hopefully, picking it up. He frowned. It wasn't from Elsa. He cursed his luck. It was, however, from Edvard Collin. He had to smirk at that. The prince sat down to read through it.

 _Dear Prince Hans:_

 _I hope to receive a reply to this letter. If I do not, I suppose it must mean you are dead and that mad but genius plan of yours failed, but I choose to hope for the best. I hope the aid of my countrymen, and of Carl Alexander's, helped you in your campaign against the Brits. Though I suppose campaign isn't so much the word, or words, as guerilla ambush is._

 _Your letter, my friend, sounded most stressed and frantic. You really should work out some of that tension, you know. It won't help you. I would suggest you meet up with an escort in a tavern, but I can't for the life of me picture you going with a prostitute of either gender. Not when your mind is otherwise occupied. You know full well who I mean._

 _You should try writing a romantic letter to her, you know. It wouldn't need to be sent, but it would get some of your thoughts out on paper. I wish you the best of luck, my friend._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Edvard Collin_

Hans frowned at the letter and immediately picked up a quill, scribbling a reply.

 _Dear Edvard:_

 _Here is my reply, and now you know I am not dead. My plan was more of a success than I had begun to imagine it would be. Many were cut down by us while they tried to flee in a panic. Your troops and Carl's did indeed help matters._

 _I will have you know I am not tense in that sort of manner, and I'm hardly stressed about things. I don't believe I am, at least, though I'm starting to question the more I see Mael eyeing me warily like he's seeing symptoms of something I'm unaware of. As to my mind being 'otherwise occupied', I have said it before and I will say it again, I am not in love. Not with the Queen, not with anyone. I am fond of her, but not in love with her._

Hans paused, frowning at that last sentence. It seemed such a lie the more time that passed by… No! No, it wasn't a lie. He shook his head and continued on.

 _As to writing a romantic letter, there's hardly any use in that. Not for me. It will do me precious little good say for perhaps to bring me a laugh. In fact I will write a romantic letter to you right now, just to show how useless such a thing would be to me, say for to lighten my spirits._

 ** _My dearest Edvard:_**

 ** _I languish for you as for a pretty Calabrian wench... my sentiments for you are those of a woman. The femininity of my nature and our friendship must remain a mystery._**

 ** _With all my love,_**

 ** _Hans Christian Andersen_**

 _There, you see. At least now you will have a laugh too._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Prince Hans_

Hans put down the quill and looked the letter over. He smirked dryly and picked it up again.

 _P.S_

 _You know, perhaps I should go with that ruse for the backstory of my pseudonym Hans Christian Andersen. After all, no one will believe a young prince who slayed trolls, tackled magic mirrors, fought pirates, and warred along with his thirteen brothers whilst crossing paths with mysticism and sorcery and wonders of the magical world of all sorts, wrote the stories that I write. I predict that belief in magic will be dead by the next century, as much a pity as that is. It will become only a memory, and that is a great tragedy indeed. To cut all of that out of my history, however, would make it a very dull autobiography indeed. I need to find some way to spice my 'life' up. People can be easily tricked if you play your cards right, so keep the love letter I wrote to you. With luck, historians of the future will see it as a genuine one, and then there will be questions, won't there? Scandalous ones indeed. It would be amusing, I think._

Frozen

Hans sent the letter off. No sooner had he done so when the tent was opened. He frowned, looking back guardedly. He relaxed on seeing it was just his siblings. More specifically Franz and the triplets. "There you are, Hans. Why are you hiding in here? You're the man of the hour! Come out and celebrate with us," Calcas said.

"I'd rather not," Hans replied.

"What are you waiting for? Her letter, if it arrives, isn't due until tomorrow or the next day," Connyn said.

Hans flushed. "I'm not waiting for her letter!" he defended immediately.

"Brother, who do you think you're talking to?" Coth asked, smirking.

"We're your brothers, Hans. It's a rare event indeed when you're able to trick us," Franz said.

"Oh bite me," Hans replied. He sighed, drawing a hand through his hair. "Alright, I'm coming."

"Good! About time you had some fun. God knows Moren could use the celebration too, if we can drag his sorry backside out there," Franz said.

"Oh, we'll manage," Coth assured, smirking deviously. "Come on, Hans." Hans sighed but soon smiled and followed them. It was strange, but he was finally starting to feel as if he were their brother again. Perhaps they were all starting to feel that way about one another. Of course, time didn't heal all wounds, scars always remained, but at least it was something. At least they were coming to be able to tolerate, and perhaps love, each other again, if not forgive one another. They never would forgive one another, he knew, but they could move passed it or try to forget at least.

Frozen

 _Dear Hans:_

 _I admit I laughed until I was doubled over at your little love letter. Thank you for making my day. It really was quite lovely. Were I of Harald Scharff's nature, and had you been genuine, I believe I would actually reciprocate it gleefully. It was well written. The words 'languish' and 'pretty Calabrian Wench' were wondrous touches that sent me into the fit of giggles that eventually led to the full blown laughter. Wherever did you come up with 'pretty Calabrian Wench'? I suppose, though, given how often you've travelled, you would have seen your fair share of them._

 _It is good to know you are alive, my friend. I will indeed keep the letter. Future events, reactions, and questions may make it well worth it._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Edvard_

…

 _Dear Edvard:_

 _I am glad it brought you such mirth. It is bringing me some as well. I should perhaps play this game with Scharff and Carl as well, just to raise more questions. Harald, of course, will be more than willing. Duke Alexander is a bit of a stickler, but I may convince him to play a little with some intimate remarks here and there._

 _Do take care of yourself, Edvard. I'm hoping the slaughter we were guilty of does not trickle down onto yours and Carl's head. Protect yourselves. If you must, throw us under the carriage to save your skins. I do not wish to be guilty of your deaths._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hans_

Frozen

The brothers sat in Moren's tent silently, taking in the kings words. He was going to send most of them back. They supposed they had seen this coming, they supposed it was for the best not only for the kingdom but for their family… But it didn't make it any easier to hear…

"We don't want to leave you," Iscawin soon said to the king.

"You have to," Moren replied. "You know you do."

"We will fight and die at your side, don't send us away!" Kelin-Sel protested.

"You're going home, Kelin-Sel. There's no arguing it anymore," Moren stated. "The arrangements have already been made. Tonight you leave." What could they do? They were silent, heads bowed. Come midnight, the majority of the brothers were returning home as those left behind watched after them.

"Be safe," Hans murmured softly after them. Part of him wished he was going with them, but he knew that couldn't be. This was _his_ punishment to face. He couldn't keep running from or escaping the consequences of his actions. He bowed his head. In his heart he felt things were starting to fall apart. He dreaded what would come next.

Frozen

Returning to his tent, Hans sent the letter to Edvard off then frowned, pacing a bit. When was Elsa's letter coming? He wanted to see it. To reply. He was worried about her. It was overdo as it was. What if something had happened to her? What if she'd done something to hurt herself? He didn't believe she was the type, she certainly wouldn't do such a thing purposely, or if she did, well… Anyway, he didn't believe she was at that stage. He doubted she would ever be. That sort of emotional turmoil, however, was something he was familiar with. He knew the harm that one could do to themselves if they were not entirely focused on something, or even if they just lost control of themselves and their emotions. He'd cut up his hands on broken lamps or dishes more than once in a fit of despair or anger. He'd never even noticed he'd done himself harm until he noted bloody handprints or felt said blood leaking down his arms. High emotional states weren't something to be trifled with.

When he heard the beating clinging of the ice bird's wings, he leapt about a foot then was across the room in a second, seizing the letter from its leg. It shrilled in protest, flapping frantically. Hans cringed then gently pet its head. "Sorry! I'm sorry. It's just you were late. I was getting worried," he said. It cooed at him, settling down, then began preening its ice wings. Hans watched it a moment and smirked. It was a beautiful bird. He turned to the letter and opened it up. Worry came to his eyes as he read it. Only two words, and yet in those two words he could just feel her emotion. _Come back..._ "Oh Elsa," he said with a soft sigh. He had to reply to this as soon as he could. He sat down at his desk and pulled out some paper.

"Hans!" an urgent voice shouted. Duach.

Hans paused. Oh you had to be kidding him. He sighed, massaging his forehead with two fingers, then rose. "What is it now?" he asked in annoyance.

"An attack is mounting! Get out here!" Duach called back. Hans started, eyes widening. Oh no. He looked ruefully at the letter. He would so much rather answer it. He sighed in frustration. The sooner this skirmish was over the better. Then he could write her back. He hurried out of the tent to join his remaining siblings.


	4. A Costly Defeat

A Costly Defeat

Hans watched the battlefield in shock and horror, mouth dropped. This was not a skirmish. This was a full on frontal assault! "Stay together!" Moren was shouting to the men who now were starting to scramble and fall apart. There was more than a little death on both sides. Men fell every moment that was passing by. Fell by the hundreds. Hans shook out of the shock and galloped over to the king. "Moren, we have to fall back! We can't fight this!" he shouted.

"If we fall back, we doom all of us," Moren replied. "We have to hold the front."

"We can't!" Hans protested.

"Go back to Rhun, Hans! Now!" Moren ordered. "Stay at your post or so help me I'll have you shot for desertion!" Hans started, looking at his brother in shock. Moren kicked his horse into action, galloping down into the fray again. Hans watched after him in disbelief. He seriously considered defying his sibling and giving orders to retreat, but ultimately he didn't even try. It was too disorderly at this point for any order of any kind to stick. This had become chaos. Immediately he turned his horse and galloped back to where he'd left Rhun.

"Will he turn back?!" Rhun called, seeing Hans coming. He shot down another attacker then spun with his sword, cutting down a second that was trying to gore him.

"He won't listen to reason! He says if we fall back we doom everyone," Hans replied.

"He's right," Rhun grimly said, jaw set. "We've trapped ourselves, little brother, and now we're little more than cannon fodder. We run, we lead them back to our camps and this war ends in genocide."

"It's a massacre already!" Hans shouted.

"But only for us," Rhun said.

"What are you saying?!" Hans demanded.

Rhun was quiet, distress and pain coming to his eyes before he covered it. "Never mind," he replied.

"Don't try and be a sensitive brother now, Rhun! Tell me what you're saying!" Hans shot.

"I'm saying we're all going to die! And if we don't die, we're going to be captured!" Rhun shot sharply. "I'm saying we're never going to see home again, Hans! All we can do, at this point, is regroup with Moren and Jürgen, and hope to _god_ Duach and Mael can protect the camp should the enemy ever find it."

"I'm not accepting that!" Hans shot.

"What part of we're the fodder don't you get?! We were sent to this front to die, little brother!" Rhun shot.

"You're panicking. Stop it!" Hans exclaimed, noting hints of said panic creeping up. "You see conspiracy where there's none. There's still a chance! They didn't send us here to die!"

"Maybe not; but they can't come to save us now either," Rhun replied hollowly.

"Rhun…" Hans began.

Suddenly there was a victorious uproar. Sharply Hans and Rhun looked towards it. Their eyes widened in horror. Moren was being separated from the others! "They're going to kill Caleb!" Rhun said.

"No they aren't," Hans replied. "Rally our men and ride to his defense! Jürgen's already heading there!" Immediately he and Rhun galloped towards their brothers, shouting for their men to follow, rallying them to action.

Frozen

Moren fought frantically against the attackers, but he wasn't able to keep up. His men rallied about him, giving him room to breathe, and he managed to ride ahead again, eyes fixed on the Duke of Cumberland, whose forces they now were meeting. Cut of the head, the body dies. He wasn't about to be the head that was cut off today… Though he wasn't going to dare believe he'd get off unscathed for this recklessness. The Duke, seeing him coming, smirked coldly in vague amusement. Immediately he rode towards the king of the Southern Isles. Moren's eyes narrowed. As they neared one another, Moren suddenly leapt off of his horse and barrel rolled away from it. The Duke of Cumberland's eyes widened in shock and horror. Moren leapt up and immediately extended his sword, slashing the horse. It screamed in pain, rearing up and throwing the Duke to the ground before galloping away in terror. It wouldn't survive out there, Moren knew. Unless someone caught it and brought it back to tend to, the poor beast would bleed out in those woods. He felt pity for it, but he couldn't think long on the horse. More pressing matters were at hand.

The Duke of Cumberland scrambled up, scowling darkly. With a war cry he charged Moren and slashed at him murderously. Moren was surprised at the skill, but he managed to keep up. This man was older than him, he knew, and so with luck was starting to slow down. Unfortunately, he was also probably more experienced. He seemed the type that had seen much war. Fortunately, Moren wasn't exactly a naïve babe to war either. He thanked the gods that Hans hadn't met this man, though. The boy was too undisciplined, yet, to take on the nobleman. Hans's skill exceeded the Duke of Cumberland's, he believed, but skill wasn't all that was needed to win a battle. Strategy was key, and patience. Hans strategized too rashly and headstrongly in the heat of the moment. He also wasn't exactly what one would call patient. When adrenaline took over, Hans didn't exactly think two steps ahead.

"You're fighting a losing battle, King of the Southern Isles!" the Duke of Cumberland roared. Moren didn't bother replying, focusing on the fight. "I will take you and your brothers captive, mark me well! And when the time is right, I will see your siblings beheaded in front of you!" Moren was probably more inwardly grateful to hear this than he should have been. Grateful because it meant the Duke's forces had been ordered not to kill the rulers heading this battle. Instead they'd been ordered to take the heads captive. Being taken captive meant being potentially able to escape. There was no escape from death. "Fear me!" the man shouted.

"No," Moren replied. He ducked low, tripping the man, then went to impale him. He wasn't so inclined to take captives as the Duke was. The Duke rolled out of the way and slashed. Moren yelped as the blade caught his leg and leapt back, looking at the bleeding injury warily before turning attention to the attacking Duke again. The other's blade hadn't cut deep enough to be overly concerning. They clashed on the field, vying for the winning position. Moren forgot one thing, though. This wasn't a duel. This was a war. The Duke was not the only enemy he needed to fear. He dodged a strike from the man, falling back, then spun his blade in preparation to go at the man again…

All at once he screamed in pain, feeling an arrow enter his back. The Duke lunged with blade in hand, driving it into Moren's hip and throwing the king down in front of a charging horse. Moren looked up at it and gasped. He cried out in alarm, dropping again and covering his head and neck as the horse stampeded over him. "Caleb!" he vaguely heard Jürgen scream from close at hand. He didn't know the extent of his injuries anymore, he only knew he was alive… He also realized he couldn't make his body move… Dread shot through him. He felt a searing pain in his hip and his back, and as agonizingly painful as it was, he almost cheered it. If he could feel, that was a good sign. He dreaded to know how bad his injuries were truly, but he didn't dread for long. Darkness overwhelmed him.

Frozen

Jürgen leapt from his horse immediately, slaughtering any man unfortunate enough to cross his path. The Duke of Cumberland was being pulled back into the protection of his men. "Get the king out of here!" Jürgen bellowed to his own.

"You will be alone, sir!" one of his soldiers protested.

"No I won't," Jürgen growled darkly, seeing Hans and Rhun frantically covering the distance between themselves and Caleb. "Rally around the king!" he shouted to any of his men nearby who wouldn't be dragging Caleb to safety. At that moment, Hans and Rhun arrived at his side. The three brothers began immediately shoving back with their men, keeping themselves in a tight group… Until they weren't…

Hans wasn't sure when he'd drifted away. Perhaps when he'd let his anger and determination to cut the Duke of Cumberland down for what he'd done to Caleb overwhelm him. All he was suddenly aware of was that none of his brothers were there anymore, and whatever men had followed him were dying. But then so were the Duke's, and the Duke was looking increasingly more worried the closer Hans was getting to him. Hans wondered, briefly, how badly injured he was. Himself, not the Duke. He hadn't noticed he was hurt at all until about now, when he was feeling it.

"Hans! Hans!" he heard his brothers frantically shouting. Their voices were far. Too far. He had half a mind to return to them.

"Rhun, no!" Jürgen shouted.

Rhun? Had Rhun fallen too, Hans wondered as he pulled off a whirling takedown on some kid who actually believed he stood a chance in this war. He came within a hair's breadth of driving his sword through the child's throat before he determined the boy was far too young to die. Not that others would feel the same mercy. Sure enough, shortly after he'd left the child's side he heard the scream of pain and the sounds of a victim choking on his own blood. The voice was too underdeveloped for it to have been a man. Whatever soldier had killed that boy had better hope to _god_ he died on the battle field before Hans figured out who it had been. Of course if it was one of his brothers that was another thing entirely, blood and water and all that, but still. Hans threw himself forward, suddenly, full on attacking the Duke of Cumberland. Whatever force had followed him was keeping him alive, because he hadn't been cut down by now. He vaguely registered about thirty had gone after him in a V pattern. Like an arrow piercing through a wall of skin. He noted the pattern's effectiveness for future reference. Of course had the ones attacking been anyone other than Southern Isles soldiers, Hans doubted it would have worked so well; and even despite their skill they were still dying all around.

The Duke of Cumberland took on the boy in shocked disbelief as Hans reached him. As soon as he could, he put distance between himself and the young prince. Cumberland soldiers filled the space between them, forcing the youngest heir to back off slightly. The Duke, once safely away, eyed the proceedings. The young prince had doomed himself, he noted. At least he would get _one_ captive out of this. He didn't think the boy knew just how alone he was. Wait, what was this? Ah, his brother. Or one of them. At least, he was fairly certain it was the boy's brother. They looked too much alike for it to be coincidence, and no one _but_ a brother or parent or child would be carving his way through slews of enemies, totally unafraid for their own life, in order to reach someone beyond saving. That prince too had doomed himself. That was two royal captives to hold over Moren's head, at least. And that would do, along with all the other captured enemies.

The forces of the Southern Isles were on the verge of being decimated. The Duke took a sick thrill in that. The king had fallen, the second eldest was calling a retreat finally, and these two princes coming at him were all that remained at this point. The Duke gave the order not to pursue the retreating enemies. The second eldest prince was scowling back at him with hatred. Oh, and was that despair and helplessness in the man's eyes? So he too realized nothing could be done to save his brothers, then. For a moment he thought, and hoped, that the second-in-line would throw himself back into the fray in a desperate attempt to save the two doomed ones. That would give him three captives and ruin the young king who sat on the throne of the Isles. It appeared, though, that the second born didn't fall as easily to desperation as the eldest did. Moren, when all hope was lost, would throw himself into any situation in a last ditch effort to turn the tides or die trying. This brother, whose name he believed was Jürgen, was more inclined to retreat and regather strength before trying again. A tactic more fit for the sea, the Duke personally believed. To flee then come back. The young man was probably a sailor before a soldier, and a sailor with one of the fastest ships around, if he was so sure this action would work. It had probably never failed him on the ocean. A soldier, though, would have known that if their enemy wished it, they could send forces to track them all the way back to their camp and finish what was started. But where was the fun in that? What he had in mind was so much crueller… He was curious about how it would play out. It seemed it was curiosity driving many of his actions these days, albeit morbid curiosity. He had yet to have an experiment impress him and make an impression, though.

"Victory is ours! Gather up those who are still living! Bind them in chains and take them back with us to Cumberland!" the Duke commanded. His men cheered in victory. The Duke scanned the sight and saw that the youngest prince had been caught by his brother. The two weren't putting up a fight. At least they had the brains to know when something was futile. Or actually… He grew more amused. They were still willing to fight, he saw. They had that look in their eyes. They were being protective of their men. That was why they'd stopped fighting. To fight meant to die, and neither was about to risk further and needless death. How sweet. In a sickening way. They thought they would bring their soldiers home alive. Oh, he would have fun with them. They believed they were saving lives. They didn't realize that only a very small number of them would be returning anyway.

As to the safety of each other… Either they believed they were saving one another, or their brother had ordered them to stop fighting in a situation such as this. Which, as much as he was reluctant to admit it, as it took away from the romanticism, was probably more correct. It was no secret how deeply those siblings despised each other. Their eldest brother, though, was firm in his word and strong of hand. He had most likely ordered his siblings to partner forces up. He had probably ordered them not to abandon said partners on pain of death too, so really either way the two princes had been doomed, but c'est la guerre. He could at least pretend it was more poetic than that. The siblings looked over and met their captor's eyes. The Duke nodded to them apathetically and turned, walking away to find a horse. Hans and Rhun, watching icily after him, were quickly bound and led away none too gently.

Frozen

Moren lay in the healing tent motionless. "Will he survive or won't he?" Jürgen asked Mael after a time. The king was so pale… Jürgen shuddered.

"He will survive," Mael said. His tone was grave, though.

"There's a 'but', isn't there?" Duach asked.

Mael paused, looking up. "His back was broken in two places, and his hip… He will move again, more or less, but he is too badly injured to ever fully recover," he soon said.

"What does that mean?" the Duke of Weselton, off to the side, demanded.

Lars sighed and turned to them. "It means it's best he never enter another battle of this magnitude again, lest the next injury paralyze him permanently. Both back and hip will cause him grief and pain forevermore, and he will never again move as quickly or as well as he once did. He cannot fight any longer. Not in a war. In a duel _maybe_ he can still hold his own, and he wouldn't settle for less I suppose, but in a war zone? No. Perhaps duel wise he won't even hold his own against anyone close to his own skill level either. As it is, he will walk with a cane for the rest of his life. Rather, he will walk with a cane into old age. His body is still relatively young, and strong enough to regain a fair degree of mobility, but as he grows old this injury he has sustained will progressively deteriorate. He will be immobile and wheelchair bound by his seventies, unless he is particularly fortunate," he stated.

"Oh the poor boy..." the Duke said, pity filling his eyes.

"I suppose you would have broken that news more gently if you'd known I was awake," Caleb said from the bed, tone weak and laced with agony. He grimaced and gave a groan as a stab of pain shot through his spine.

Mael tensed and looked back sadly. "I'm sorry… I wish I could have done more. Try not to move, brother, you'll only agitate it and risk making it worse," he said.

"It isn't your fault. I knew the risk. Never mind that. Where are the others?" Moren demanded immediately, putting his own misfortune out of mind. Jürgen had been there, he'd heard his voice, and Duach was here in this tent as well. The others, though…

Jürgen tensed up. He hadn't yet told even Lars and Runo where Rudi and Hans were. All eyes were to him. He swallowed and looked down. "Eric's father survived the fight, as did the Scottish king and our other allies.

"You know who I mean," Caleb said.

Jürgen was quiet. "Where are they?" Duach asked, dread slowly filling him. The second eldest remained silent. "Dammit, where are our brothers, Meilic?! Where is my twin?! Duach freaked, immediately realizing this wasn't good.

Jürgen close his eyes then looked at them again. "They have been taken… They are captives, now, of the Duke of Cumberland… I couldn't save them…"

"Did you even _try_?!" Mael demanded in dread, a chill shooting through his whole body.

"Of course I tried! And it resulted in the deaths of a whole battalion!" Jürgen replied. "I couldn't get to them, okay?! I swear to _god_ I fought to, but Caleb needed to be saved, and the men were collapsing by the hundreds… We had to get out! It was escape or see everyone slaughtered or led off into captivity! I tried! Dammit I tried!" he exclaimed.

The pirate's heart twisted agonizingly within him. He remembered when Hans had screamed those very same words, after the death of Lars's wife Helga and their children… They hadn't heard him then. They had despised him, hated him, driven him out with intent to murder the boy, and they had been deaf. They hadn't seen or sensed the regret and anguish he too had been in. They hadn't cared if they did… He felt that pain now… The hurt and sorrow and grief Hans must have gone through… He wondered, would his brothers turn on him, now, as they had on the youngest? Mael's eyes were tightly shut. He too remembered…

"You son of a bitch!" Duach freaked, lunging at Jürgen.

"Stop!" Mael sharply said. Duach froze.

"No. Let him come," Jürgen said, watching Duach miserably. "I'm sorry, Runo… That's all I can say anymore… Do what you will."

Duach looked at Jürgen, anguish in his eyes, then suddenly sobbed, covering his mouth and sinking to the ground, burying his face in his knees. Never before had he felt so empty… Without his brothers here, without his _twin_ … He felt as if there was nothing… He didn't have it in him to remain angry anymore. All he could do was weep. He wasn't the only one either. Mael and Jürgen silently wept as well. Moren felt numb, beyond the point of weeping. He looked up at the roof of the tent. Tears burned his eyes. Would they ever see them again…? He closed his eyes tightly and prayed for this all to end. Prayed that they would see their brothers once more or save them at least.

The Duke of Weselton watched solemnly then silently rose. Now he had a letter to write… And it was one he had never wanted to pen ever…

Frozen

 _My darling Elsa,_

 _I don't even know how to tell you this, my dearest. I don't know how to begin, so forgive me my bluntness._

 _You will not receive further messages from Prince Hans. Not because he is dead, I will not even let you think for a moment that is the case, but because he has been taken captive. In a great battle on the front lines, his men were overwhelmed. He was captured, along with his brother Prince Rudi, by the Duke of Cumberland. They fought to protect their brother, King Caleb, who was struck down and gravely injured. He will walk with a cane for the rest of his life, more likely than not, or need its aid forever more. The poor boy will never regain full mobility again. While defending him, the two princes were taken._

 _Perhaps you wonder, Elsa, why I find this message so hard to write. After all, they were only taken captive, weren't they? There is a chance of ransom or escape. A chance they will be freed again… If such thoughts pass your mind, it pains me to tell you they are naïve. All of that is true, I will admit as much, but you do not know of the things done to prisoners of war. Especially prisoners of Cumberland. The Duke is a cruel and wicked man who delights in dark and evil games…_

 _They will suffer, Elsa. Untold pain and anguish and horrors. I dare not go into description of what I mean by that. I wager you can guess, though I wish you couldn't. I wish more that this news did not come to you like this… They may never be seen again… Their lives will not be worth living in that place and under that man. They will be his experiments… In despair they may very well choose to end it, and the greatest comfort I can offer you is that if they should do so, it would be a far gentler and kinder fate than if they fight to stay alive._

 _I do not believe you will see them again, I will be honest in that, but that is just me. I am a cynical old man, though. I will not take that hope from you. I will not say that it is impossible they will be freed or get away, because it **is** possible, however small that possibility is or isn't. There is still hope, my daughter._

 _With sincerest condolences and love,_

 _Papa_

 _AKA the Duke of Weselton_


	5. Light in Darkness, Realization in Grief

Light in Darkness, Realization in Grief

Kristoff rode Sven towards the Valley of the Living Rock. "I wonder what was so important that Gran' Pabbie wanted to see me," the ice harvester remarked to Sven. Sven was looking around uneasily. It seemed like there was a very grave hush here. A dark atmosphere that wasn't usually present. "I mean, he didn't even want me to bring Anna." Sven snorted. Kristoff chuckled and patted his reindeer's neck. "I'm sure it's nothing too bad, but wow it's creepy here for some reason." He didn't trust it, to be honest, but maybe he was just being paranoid?

He rode into the valley and dismounted Sven. He frowned, looking worriedly around. Where were the rock trolls? It was bare here. "Gran' Pabbie?! Mom, dad?!" he called out. Silence. "Where is everyone?" he murmured. "Grandpa, mom, dad! Anyone!"

"You've come, my boy!" a voice said. Kristoff turned sharply then relaxed in relief. It was Cliff. Err, his adoptive father. "Follow me, child."

"Dad, what's going on?" Kristoff asked.

"There's no time to explain. Not out here. We're too vulnerable out here," Cliff replied.

"Too vulnerable? From what?" Kristoff incredulously asked.

"You'll learn soon enough, Kristoff," Cliff replied, moving swifter than Kristoff was used to seeing him move. Soon they came to a waterfall, which Cliff walked right on through. Kristoff and Sven exchanged looks then followed Cliff curiously. Their mouths dropped. Behind the waterfall was a sealed cave! Cliff was pushing it open. This was the valley's safe place, Kristoff knew. He'd been told about it, but the rock trolls had never had to use it before, at least not in his lifetime, so he'd never actually been here. Nor had he ever thought he would. That he was here now seriously concerned him. He went to help Cliff move the stone, then followed him inside with Sven.

Frozen

Kristoff sat alone with Gran Pabbie, who had just dismissed a very distressed looking Bulda. The ice harvester had wanted to go after his mother, but he got the feeling now wasn't the time. She probably wouldn't hear him even if he tried to talk to her. She'd just send him back here. Apparently this was something that tied into him somehow, and it seemed big. He had to see what was going on. "Gran Pabbie, what's wrong?" Kristoff asked.

Gran Pabbie was silent a moment. Soon he looked up at his adoptive grandson. "The evil troll has escaped the icy prison in which Elsa and Hans trapped him," he answered.

Kristoff's eyes widened and he stiffened. "What?!" he demanded.

Gran Pabbie nodded his head. "He rages now… Against the queen, against the prince, against all of you… Against us as well…" the old troll declared.

"You? Why all of you? You didn't do anything to him!" Kristoff said, immediately protective of his family.

Gran Pabbie visibly cringed. "Yes we did," he soon replied. " _I_ did..." Oh how he'd wronged his son... But could Carabis even truly feel hurt by anything, he wondered? Regardless, though, guilt continued to weigh agonizingly on him.

"What are you talking about?" Kristoff asked.

"It is a long story… And it starts with a troll, me, and a sprite… And an affair that should never have happened, that produced a child more powerful than we ever knew," Gran' Pabbie replied.

Kristoff's eyes slowly widened in realization. "No…" he breathed. "Grandfather, you're saying… no…."

"He hunts you, my boy. You and your family and the princes. Danger lingers over your heads every passing day, and the sprite is preparing for the opportune moment to strike. Perhaps he has already found it. Linked to him is the mirror, and linked to that is us. I will start from the beginning." With that, the old troll told his grandson of the wicked hobgoblin and his school, of the day it had corrupted the children of the trolls and warped them into the things they had been fighting at the start, of how the mirror came to be lifted up into the sky and dropped, and of the troll's quest for blood... But he didn't speak of what had estranged Carabis from him.

Frozen

Kristoff listened in numb horror, as Gran' Pabbie closed the tale. "You must be ever vigilant now, child. Your life will be at constant risk, and the lives of those you love as well, when the troll comes. Warn Anna and Elsa, inform the princes, ensure they are ready. For now you are more or less safe. It will come for us first… For _me_ …" the old troll said.

"Gran' Pabbie, I'll stay here with you and defend you!" Kristoff insisted. "Hans knows of the twisted mirror. The man's almost obsessed with it. Plus his brothers have dealt with the troll before. They'll help Anna and Elsa. They don't need me, but you do!"

"There is nothing you will be able to do here, Kristoff, say for die an early death," Gran' Pabbie replied. "And they _will_ need you, grandson. Believe me they will."

"Grandfather…" Kristoff began.

"There is no more discussion to be had, my dear boy," Gran' Pabbie said. Kristoff looked down, closing his eyes painfully. He didn't like this. Every part of him screamed that if he left, someone he loved would die! He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't! Gran Pabbie watched him quietly. "Kristoff, you will be alright," Gran' Pabbie said. "Don't fear for us. In the end, all will be well again."

"No it won't," Kristoff replied in a whisper.

"For a time it will be," Gran' Pabbie gently assured, smiling softly. Kristoff looked woefully up. "Return to your fiancée. Beg her sister to let you marry her. Elsa will do so. She has a plan, one that Hans suggested to her. She will give her blessing. Live your life with you bride and your loved ones, my boy... And do not come back here... You will always be one of us, one of the trolls, but your life is with humanity now."

"My life is as much with you as with them!" Kristoff replied. "I love you no less than the others."

"And that will always be so, but you cannot live between two worlds," Gran' Pabbie stated.

"This is no different than if I had human parents, grandpa. Your world isn't a separate one to theirs," Kristoff insisted. "I won't let it be. Least of all if Elsa's going to succeed in getting me recognized as a troll prince."

"Don't advertise it, Kristoff, please! If you do you will awaken the hobgoblin's jealousy and wrath and indignance!" Gran' Pabbie insisted.

"I'm not afraid of him!" Kristoff shot.

"You should be!" Gran Pabbie snapped. Kristoff started, looking surprised. "You should be," Gran' Pabbie repeated. "That creature is beyond what you realize."

Kristoff was silent a long moment. "Let him come. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving behind this life," he finally said. "Besides, it doesn't realize just how adaptable and powerful humans can be too. I get the sense that's something very few of the fae ever learn to clue in on."

Gran' Pabbie looked at his grandson in something akin to wonder. He shook his head and smiled. "You will be a great leader, one day," he soon said. "Go home, my boy. I love you. Always remember it."

"I love you too, grandpa," Kristoff replied, hugging him.

"Prepare yourself, child… Because if something goes wrong, it will not be just the Southern Isles fighting a war," Gran' Pabbie said. Kristoff's expression became grave as he let those words roll around in his head.

Frozen

"What?" Elsa asked in disbelief.

"I want to marry your sister. By the close of this week," Kristoff said to Elsa boldly.

Anna, mouth dropped, was stunned. Then suddenly she was beaming, grinning radiantly. "Kristoff…" she began.

"I can't allow that!" Elsa said. "Not yet. Wait a while longer."

"No, Elsa, please! You can't say no! Not this time! Let us marry, I'm begging you!" Anna insisted. "I want to be with him!"

"Anna, things aren't…" Elsa began.

"I don't care! What, do you have to disown me before my marriage to him will be accepted? Because if that's what it takes then do it! At least in the eyes of the people it'll be okay then, and it isn't like you'll actually stop loving me," Anna said.

Elsa shifted. Her sister had just wiped out most of—if not all—of her arguments against this with that single offer. She was getting more and more clever as time passed, and starting to grow up. "I won't disown my own sister!" Elsa replied.

"Elsa, I love him!" Anna said.

"I know you do, Anna, but it's more complicated than that!" Elsa insisted. However, Hans _had_ suggested she let them sail to the Southern Isles, once… Give them that chance to elope. Caleb would allow it, without doubt, and when they returned here, there would be nothing the crown could do about it, and no protest the people could make.

"Please. Elsa, please," Anna begged.

Elsa was quiet. "My answer is no," she soon said. "I can't bless this…"

"Elsa…" Anna began, visibly hurt.

"But," Elsa cut off. Anna fell silent. "But there's no rule that says you must be married in Arendelle for the union between you two to be official," she said. "As long as you keep it quiet when you return, at least until we can hold a marriage for show before the people to satisfy them as well, I can't do anything to stop you from going to another land… I have a task I want you to come with me to carry out in the Southern Isles anyway."

"The Southern Isles?" Anna asked. "But its heirs are all at war. What could we possibly do there?"

"Not all of them are still at war," Elsa said. "Justic wrote me, not long ago, and said that Moren had sent most of them back home. A ruler must be on the throne. It can't be left vacant for long periods of time, because they're still in the process of purging the corrupt council and advisors from their court. Without one of the brothers sitting as ruler, it's a very real risk that by the time the war is done, the princes and king will return only to be exiles in their own kingdom. For now, just six brothers still remain overseas. Of those six, only five—four if Duach is too injured to return to war again yet—still fight on the field of battle. Mael is too invaluable as a doctor, so Moren won't put him on the lines. It's only the king, Jürgen, Rhun, and Hans who are still fighting for certain, and Duach possibly. We're going to the Isles, all three of us, and while there I'll be discussing with Justic how the political situation is looking, and how the war is going. It'll be best, given the corruption in that palace, that you're there with me for show, and Kristoff as well."

"Who'll rule Arendelle?" Anna asked. Elsa smirked mischievously.

Frozen

"All hail acting regent Olaf," Kai uneasily said in front of the court who was gathered in stunned disbelief, mouths dropped.

"Ooh goody, I get to be king for three weeks!" Olaf cheered. Thereabouts, at least, depending on how good the sea was for them on their voyage to and from the Southern Isles. "I won't let you down, everyone." Kristoff looked mortified. Anna was grinning. Elsa was smirking. "Kai will do most of the ruling, Olaf's just a figurehead, but it'll get the job done," she said to the ice harvester.

"You've lost your mind, haven't you?" Kristoff asked Elsa.

"I'm curious. Sue me," Elsa replied, shrugging and leaving the throne room, giggling with her sister.

"Hoo boy…" Kistoff said. He turned, following them.

Frozen

The ship drew near the shores of the Isles. Anna, Elsa, and Kristoff looked out towards it, puzzled. "Is it just me, or does this place seem a lot more gloomy?" Anna soon asked. "It just… It feels like there's some kind of darkness hanging over it. Elsa?" She looked at her sister for an answer. Elsa seemed paler than usual. "Elsa?" she asked uneasily.

Elsa shifted then looked at Anna, putting on a reassuring smile. "I'm sure everything's okay," she assured.

Anna raised an eyebrow then looked at the shore again. "I haven't felt this feeling since… Since mom and dad died… Gloom hung over our palace then. Gloom's hanging over this one now, isn't it? Not as bad, but serious still," Anna mused. She shivered and turned to Elsa worriedly. "Do you think that… that one of them…?"

"No. Mourning flags would be flying, then," Elsa said, cutting her sister off. "But things aren't going well in battle." Anna looked worriedly ahead again.

Frozen

Elsa, Kristoff, and Anna entered the throne room where the brothers who had returned home were gathered, murmuring amongst themselves. Justic, sitting as acting regent, turned to them and seemed to relax ever so slightly. A tired smile spread across his face. "Your Majesty," he greeted, bowing to Elsa. His siblings followed suite.

"Greetings, all of you," Elsa replied, curtseying to them with Anna.

"The triplets will show you to your rooms," Justic said, grinning at them. The grin, though, seemed more bittersweet than happy.

"What's wrong, Justic?" Elsa questioned. "The rooms can wait."

Justic's grin fell. The others looked away from her and returned to their thrones. Justic drew a shaky breath, looked at the king's throne like it was a disease or a crime to sit on it, then sat. "The news isn't good," he replied. "The king has returned."

"Caleb? Well where is he? Why isn't he on the throne?" Anna asked.

Justic was silent, jaw twitching. "He's in his room," he soon answered. "With Jürgen…"

"Are all of you back?" Kristoff asked.

Justic's jaw twitched again. "Mael and Duach remained on the battle field. Mael because Duach, in his state, couldn't be left alone out there… Nor could he be spared to come back… It's a long story. Well… Not so much long as… as difficult. For all of us…"

Elsa felt a chill run down her spine. "What happened?" she asked.

"I'll tell you everything, but please. Get settled first," Justic said. Justic looked over at Anna and Kristoff. He smiled softly at them. "Kristoff, a word with you," he said. Kristoff looked curious but then approached. Calcas and Connyn led off Elsa and Anna. Coth waited for Kristoff to finish with Justic.

"Uh, what's going on?" Kristoff asked.

"Anna wrote me and expressed that you desired to marry her, but that Elsa wouldn't allow it," Justic remarked. "There's a chapel, not far from the palace. The priest there is a friend of Kelin-Sel's. Kelin-Sel will bring you to the place, if you wish, and you and Anna may be married in secret. Legally bound, no catches, no fears. Keep discreet in Arendelle, say for in private, and all will be well until Elsa can smooth things over and give you a show wedding more akin to the fairy tale one that will be expected."

"Wait, what? Are you serious? Just like that?" Kristoff asked.

"Hey, we can't say it's a surprise to us," Franz said, smirking. "We got the feeling that _somehow_ you two would find a way to legally tie the knot."

"There are no strings attached, my friend," Iscawin said. "It's a favor from us."

"More a gift. Favors imply you need to repay them. Gifts don't," Kelin-Sel replied. "The wedding will _be_ our wedding gift to you. God knows we could use that bit of mirth about now, but you'll hear all that soon enough."

"Come on, Kristoff, I'll show you to your room," Coth said.

"Thank you. All of you," Kristoff said, shocked and overwhelmed. Wow. Anna hadn't wasted time sharing the plot with the Southern Isles. He felt giddy to know as much. He followed Coth away.

Frozen

Elsa was placing her things in dresser drawers and humming as she did so. She heard the sound of wings flapping outside the window, and heard the unmistakable tinkle of clinking ice. She turned quickly. There sat the ice pigeon, a note bound to its ankle! She felt her heart skip a beat and practically leapt across the room. She opened the window and brought the bird inside, removing the canister from its leg with a grin and going to open the message…

She noticed immediately the handwriting wasn't his. Her grin fell to a look of shock, then of unease. This writing was the duke of Weselton's. A cold dread seized her heart. What was going on? She looked back towards the ice bird that was preening its wings. It looked up at her, oblivious as to what the contents of the note might hold. Elsa turned back to the letter, drew a deep breath, and began to read…

Frozen

Elsa raced from the room, eyes wide in horror. "Anna! Anna, come out!" she called, pounding on her sister's door.

"Elsa, what's wrong?!" Anna demanded, quickly opening it.

"It's the king and princes," Elsa said in a breath, handing the letter to Anna.

Anna took it and read through, her eyes widening in horror and despair. "No!" she exclaimed. "This-this can't be! Oh gods, Caleb!" Quickly she ran from the room, following her sister.

Kristoff was just thanking Coth for helping him unpack when the two royal sisters shot around the corner. "Kristoff, come quickly! It's Caleb," Elsa said.

Coth blanched. "How did you find out?!" he demanded.

"A letter," Anna answered in a breath. Kristoff darted after them, alarmed. Coth, pale, quickly made his way to the throne room. It seemed there was no explaining that would need to be done anymore.

Frozen

Moren lay on the bed. He groaned softly in pain as a doctor administered another pain killer to him. Jürgen sat close at hand, watching numbly and raggedly. He reached out, gently squeezing his elder brother's hand. "It's okay," he softly said to the king.

Moren looked incredulously at him then sighed, nodding. As far as he was concerned, it would never be okay again. The reality of this was just beginning to sink in. He had been crippled. There was no other way to put it. Crippled… He would never move the same again. This pain he felt now? It would be eternal and only grow as he got older. His range of motion would deteriorate even faster than said pain would grow. If he should survive to old age, by that time he may not even be able to _walk_ anymore. He felt Jürgen shifting uncomfortably and suddenly noticed how hard he was squeezing his sibling's hand. His grip loosened immediately.

"At least you still have your strength. Or most of it," Jürgen dryly said, drawing back his hand and massaging it.

Moren eyed him dubiously. Maybe arm strength, but what else? He looked upwards again. "This will never be fixed," he said out loud. Jürgen paused and looked at him. "I will be like this the rest of my life… In fact I will deteriorate."

"Caleb, don't think on such things," Jürgen said. "As long as you sit on the throne, you'll be of use to society… Ooh, that came out so very wrong." Moren was glaring murderously at him for the implication that if he weren't a king he'd now be useless. "I-I mean, uh, err… Oh boy."

"No, you're right," Moren said with a sigh, looking up.

"I'm wrong! There are plenty of productive members of society who are even worse off than you, bound to wheelchairs or legless states. You will adapt. We humans can adapt to most any situation we find ourselves in," Jürgen covered.

"I won't be useless to society… I'll be useless in saving our brothers…" Moren said.

Jürgen fell silent and bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly. "I think… I think that most all of us are… But that doesn't mean we won't try," he said. Moren was silent, looking out the window in anguish. God, please let them be alright. Let them survive.

Frozen

"Moren!" Elsa's voice called out as the door flew open. Moren quickly looked over only to see her there, along with Anna and Kristoff. Anna was in tears. Elsa looked like she wanted to cry but was keeping it together.

He eyed them silently then nodded at them. "Sisters," he greeted. And honestly, by now _most_ of them considered those two girls to be like the sisters they never had.

"Brothers," Anna answered, smiling weakly with voice breaking as she acknowledged the title he'd given them. Her smile fell and she went to his bedside, looking him over. "What happened?" she asked.

"I was thrown from a horse, shot in the spine, and trampled by about two other horses," Moren deadpanned bitterly.

"You're crippled," Kristoff realized, looking him over.

Caleb was silent. "I am," he soon confirmed. "Every breath I take hurts, now… They tell me the pain will lessen, or that at least I will get used to it… What they refrain from saying is that by 'crippled', they really mean I will suffer slow onset paralysis. By the time I'm old I'll be unable to walk at all. By the time I'm old this pain that supposedly lessens with time will be back full force."

The sisters were silent. "And Hans and Rhun?" Kristoff finally dared ask. Elsa slowly looked up, fear shooting through her again. She hugged her arms around her body tightly, listening carefully.

Jurgen shot to his feet, angrily knocking a bowl to the ground and storming passed them and out of the room. Moren watched after him then turned to the sisters and Kristoff. "What do you want me to say?" Caleb asked, inwardly cursing Jürgen for storming off and leaving him to break this news.

"The truth," Anna replied.

Caleb was quiet. Misery and distress filled his expression and he turned to the roof again, saying nothing. "They are doomed," he finally replied. Elsa felt like she'd been struck by a sword. "No one will save them but themselves, now. We will try, perhaps should victory come to us in this war we will get them back, but ultimately no one will save them but themselves… It is fortunate the most wily and treacherous one of us, along with the smartest and most perceptive one, were the pair that was taken, because at least now I can dare to say there is hope that they will come out of it alive… But…"

"But? What but?" Anna asked.

Moren closed his eyes. "They will be broken," he soon replied.

"Broken? What do you mean broken?" Kristoff asked.

"I wish I could answer that… But I can't… Should they ever come back, though, you will know quickly enough what I mean…" Moren answered.

Elsa felt numb. After a moment she crossed the room to Moren and bent down, softly kissing his cheek. He looked at her curiously. She smiled softly. "Rest, brother, recover as well as you can. Don't strain yourself, alright? That won't do you or anyone any good." Standing straight, she turned away and left, distress filling her eyes.

Anna went to Caleb as well and softly kissed him too. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to him. "Get better soon, brother. Well, you know what I mean." She turned, following her sister. Kristoff looked over at Moren. "You're not expecting a kiss from me too, are you?" he dryly asked.

Moren chuckled, smirking. "No. But I _am_ expecting you to take the princess and wed her tonight. I expect, Kristoff, to hear of your new marriage tomorrow morning," he said. "At least it will be _some_ form of light and hope in this darkness and gloom."

Kristoff smiled. "That I can do," he replied. "Be well, your Majesty," he added, bowing. He hesitated, cringing. "There's… more bad news to tell you anyway… Maybe that should wait, though… Then at least you'll get some measure of joy from the marriage before it's taken away. If I told you now, I doubt even my marrying Anna would make you feel any form of happiness." Caleb looked seriously over at him, considered ordering him to tell anyway, but then decided against it and nodded. Kristoff nodded back then left.

Frozen

Elsa, on leaving the room, spotted Jürgen Meilic across the hall. She watched him a moment until Anna joined her. She glanced at her sister, then at the prince-gone-pirate. "Whatever happened out there, it wasn't your fault… Tell Justic there's no need for us to see him… We know now what happened…"

Jürgen looked up at her. "Coth has told already," he said. "I don't intend to leave my brother with a doctor who isn't Mael. Too much risk… I won't lose him too…"

"You haven't lost Hans and Rhun," Anna pointed out.

"Yes I have… Maybe not physically, but emotionally? Mentally? …I suppose that's yet to be seen, but… But I dare not believe they will come out of this unchanged…" Jürgen replied. "But then Hans wears masks well. Perhaps you won't even see a difference in him… He will fool everyone, as he always has… But not us… Never us..." Elsa was quiet, looking down. "I hope they die there. Before they suffer too greatly. Death will be their mercy," Jürgen suddenly remarked. Elsa turned and left swiftly, feeling the tears burning her eyes threatening to come unbidden.

Anna watched Jürgen, numb. "I'm so sorry," she finally replied in barely a whisper.

Later That Night

Elsa watched from her balcony as Anna and Kristoff talked in the garden. He said something to her, gesturing away from the castle… Towards a chapel… Anna's reaction left little doubt as to what had been said. She was in his arms, now, kissing him passionately and not caring who could see… It wouldn't matter soon anyway… Kelin-Sel was approaching them with horses. He would take them to the chapel… Tonight her sister would no more be a maiden. Elsa was torn between both happiness and ever so slight resentment. It should be her to have wed first. To have lost her maidenhood before her baby sister… It should be her marrying tonight… It _could_ have been, if she'd acted on impulse instead of thought. After all, would it really have mattered if she had? It wasn't like she would have ever loved anyway. Besides, even if she'd taken action he would have still gone to war, he would have still been taken, he would still be gone, and all of it would be like it never happened… But at least she would have experienced it... She supposed she still could. After all, it wasn't like anything was holding her back from marrying…

She told him she would wait for no man… She wasn't going to sit a helpless maiden waiting for some young warrior to come back to her alive. She didn't even love him! Besides, Edvard Collin was still very much open anyway, right? She would send to him and ask his hand, she would tell him Hans was gone. Why should she need to tell him that, though? She and Hans had never been official, nor had she ever _intended_ to choose him.

 _Somewhere within your heart and your mind, somewhere in your darkest and most secret dreams, you see that life with one of us… You're just afraid to identify the man whose image it is that you see… But I can tell you that face isn't mine… I wish it was, but it isn't._

She shivered as Edvard's words returned to her. She watched silently as Anna, Kristoff, and Kelin-Sel stole away into the night. The icy pigeon perched on the railing next to her and began preening. She looked over at it and tears burned her eyes. "I see that life with _you_ …" she whispered softly in a moment of personal realization. "It wasn't love… Dammit, it wasn't love," she said as if somehow he could hear her.

 _Yes it was… In fact it was more._

"I don't love you," Elsa whispered out loud.

 _Yes you do; and if you didn't, you were coming to._

With a shuddering breath, Elsa turned away from the window and went to her bed. She crawled under the covers and shut her eyes tightly. She was so _sick_ of this complexity… What even _was_ love anyway?


	6. I Will Wait for No Man

I Will Wait for No Man

(A/N: There may be a few editing mistakes in this chapter, didn't have a lot of time to edit as I had to go immediately to work so couldn't read through, but aside from that it should be okay. I edited last night, after all.)

Elsa was awakened by voices in the courtyard. She sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Ugh, her hair was a mess. In annoyance she tugged at one of the knots and grumbled under her breath. She went to a mirror and began brushing. Who was up at this hour anyway? "We take to the seas in two hours' time," she heard a voice say. She paused. Jürgen.

"You don't have to go back to that place and that war," another voice protested. Justic. She frowned and went to the balcony, looking down.

"I can't leave Mael and Duach there alone. We're too short on men as it is," Jürgen replied.

"Then let us go with you!" Calcas insisted for himself and his brothers. "At least some of us!"

"I'll be okay," Jürgen promised them. "Caleb, talk to them!"

Caleb, sitting on a bench with a cane in his hands, looked his siblings over. Their attention was on him. "If Kristoff is to be believed, not a single one of you can be spared here," Moren finally said. "For god's sake, if the troll king has really escaped and is hunting us… We need every ounce of manpower we can get here."

"Kristoff said it's more focused on the Valley of the Living Rock!" Iscawin protested. "That alone buys us time."

"But puts Arendelle in a very dangerous and compromising position. Don't think he won't learn what and who Kristoff is. When he does, Arendelle will be forced into a fight," Moren said.

"No it won't. The ice harvester would never allow that. Kristoff would go by himself to face the thing before he put Arendelle and Anna in danger," Kelin-Sel said.

"It can be argued, though, that we're in a more vulnerable position than we have been in years. The troll may take this opportunity and turn attention to the Isles before Kristoff and Arendelle," Justic pointed out.

"And what of Hans? He's alone out there with only Rhun! He's the one that beast wants because it's already failed to get all of us. Hans was _not_ in a good way. I think he was starting to show signs of mental trauma!" Coth insisted. "Just, the way he was beginning to look at the dead on the battle field…"

"And how often he was defying orders if it meant saving enemy lives or even our own," Connyn agreed.

"They're right. He wasn't in a good place! If that troll goes after him, he may not be able to hold off its advances on his mind this time, and whatever progress he's made? Yeah, it'll go bye bye," Franz said.

"There is nothing we can do for Hans anymore… Or for Rhun. Together they may weather it," Moren said.

"What if they can't?" Justic asked.

"There is nothing we can do to save them," Moren stated again. But he wished to god there was. "Unless the Duke asks for ransom, unless we can somehow not only invade Cumberland but get to the Duke before he executes them as a last act of spite before defeat, they're on their own. Jürgen will return and join Mael and Duach in this losing war. With luck, a treaty will be signed if nothing else. It may not get our brothers back, even if we were _victorious_ we might not save them, but at least we'll have room to breathe again. At least from there, with war not our main concern, we can try to plot a way to rescue our siblings. We will not abandon them to that man." The brothers were silent. In silence they agreed.

Frozen

Elsa, feeling her heart beating rapidly, drew back from the balcony and sat in front of the mirror, looking at herself in it. The troll king free? Hans his objective and the trolls? Arendelle at risk? Too much was happening! If all Caleb said was true, this war couldn't be allowed to continue much longer. If it did, Arendelle, the Valley of the Living Rock, and the Southern Isles were all doomed. And then what? Would the troll go for other kingdoms? Other countries? No. This had to stop. _Somehow_. "I will wait for no man," she said to herself. When she had said those words, she had meant she wouldn't wait haplessly, potentially years on years, until a man came back to her. She had meant she would let herself fall in love with another, she had meant she would move on with her life and not put everything on hold in the hopes some lover, who was likely either dead or cheating, would come back. She wouldn't stop for a guy!

 _But he isn't just a guy now, is he? He's so much more._

She was silent, thinking. "I will wait for no man," she said again. Now, though, those words took on a different meaning. She _wouldn't_ wait for him… She'd go _after_ him. Her eyes narrowed determinedly as she raised her head, looking at herself in the mirror. He was her friend after all, wasn't he?

 _Friend? Stop telling yourself that. He is no mere friend._

If nothing else, then at least she could save his brothers from death. Jürgen, of course, would never allow it, no one would… But then she'd make sure no one else had a say. "Forgive me, Anna," she said out loud. She rose swiftly and quickly began to gather up her things. She would bring some clothes, but not a lot. Most of her clothing she could make from her ice, as well as most anything else she'd need. Jürgen would have no choice but to share food with her. He might attempt to starve her out, but when he saw she wouldn't be moved, he'd relent. She would never thrust Arendelle into a war it couldn't win, and this _was_ such a war… But she would put _herself_ in it. Not because she wanted to fight, but because she wanted to end this before any more lives were lost. She just wanted the fighting to stop! She wanted… She wanted Rhun and Hans back… If nothing else, she at least wanted them to return to a country that wasn't war torn if they ever—no, not 'if they ever', but _when_ —they escaped. They would escape. She'd be sure of it. Somehow.

Frozen

Anna moaned softly as she awoke in her now-husband's arms. She grinned softly, feeling the warmth of his body so close. She pushed herself even farther into him, snuggling near. His grip tightened around her in sleep, protective and loving. Everything felt so right… There was a knock at the door and she frowned in annoyance. Really? Sighing, she lifted her head. "Who is it?" she groggily called.

"Princess Anna, your sister is gone," a voice urgently replied. One of the servants, no doubt sent by Justic or Moren. Anna went white, gasping and jerking out of Kristoff's arms, waking him in the process.

"Anna, what the heck…?" Kristoff began.

"Elsa's gone!" Anna cried out, scrambling quickly into a robe.

"What?!" Kristoff exclaimed, getting out of bed quickly and wrapping the blankets around his waist.

Anna ran to the window, hoping to see which direction her sister had run. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She wasn't seeing this… "Elsa!" she shrieked, finding her voice finally. Kristoff was quickly at her side, looking out. His mouth dropped. No way… There the queen was, running out over the ocean on a bridge of ice that was disappearing behind her… Running towards the ship that belonged to Jürgen, who was sailing back to battle. Elsa paused, looking back. Her eyes met Anna's. She smiled apologetically at her sibling then turned and continued running. On the railing, right in front of Anna's eyes, a message of ice formed.

 _You will be a good ruler, while I'm gone… When all of this is over, I'll see you again. It won't be long, I promise. I love you, baby sister._

Anna broke down into tears. This couldn't be happening to her. Not now! It wasn't okay! Kristoff pulled her close, holding her near and looking at the message in stunned disbelief. She wouldn't be gone long, right? _Right_?! She couldn't be! He looked out after Elsa. "Be safe, Snow Queen," he pled after his sister-in-law gently.

Frozen

Meanwhile, down on the beach the king and princes watched after Elsa in disbelief. "She's lost her mind!" Franz finally managed to freak out.

"It isn't her mind she's lost," Kelin-Sel replied gravely. Iscawin looked miserably down, closing his eyes tightly. He understood what his brother meant… It hurt him more than he cared to admit…

"She'll come back. Soon. She will not stay away from her sibling for long," Moren assured. "But what she gives us, in the time she is there… It will be worth more than we can ever repay…"

"She's _already_ given us all more than we can ever repay. Her and Anna both," Justic said. "Be careful, Elsa!" he shouted after her. Oh Jürgen had better treat her right on that ship. And make damn sure his _men_ treated her right too.

Frozen

Jürgen, sailing the ship, heard sudden and terrified cries of 'sorceress' 'which' 'the ice maiden'. He looked back towards the Isles sharply and his eyes widened. "Elsa!" he exclaimed. Immediately he abandoned the helm to a crewman and raced down, looking back in shock. "What the hell are you doing?! Go back! You aren't welcome here!" he shouted at her. "I'm not bringing you along!" Even as he spoke, though, he saw she wasn't giving him a choice. "S**t," he cursed. "Bring me a rope!" Immediately one was brought. He cast it down as Elsa closed the distance between them. She leapt, seizing it, and quickly Meilic and co began to pull her up. Elsa climbed onto the deck, panting for breath. "Are you _insane_?!" Jürgen freaked.

"No. For the first time in a long time I feel _completely_ sane. Sane and certain of everything I'm doing and am about to do," Elsa answered.

"Elsa, you have no idea what's out there!" Jürgen argued.

"No, I don't. Fighting and killing, though, isn't where my focus is going to be… I'm going to help end this war with as little bloodshed as possible; and when I have, I'm going to help you get your brothers back," she declared. "Maybe not all in one go, I can't be away from Anna that long, or from Arendelle, but at least in bits and pieces."

"Why?" Jürgen asked. "Why are you doing this now?"

She was silent. "If I had married Hans, would it have saved him?" she wondered.

Meilic blinked blankly, taken aback by the question. Finally he sighed. "Under Moren's law? Yes. Under Hans's? No. And Hans is more inclined to obey his own law than the Southern Isles law," he answered. "It was his sentence. If Moren wouldn't enforce it, then he _would_. Self-inflicting punishment. That brat always leaned towards the self-inflicted punishment, as stupid as it was." Elsa nodded then walked towards his cabin. He sighed. No arguing her, he saw.

Frozen

The ship sailed into port, where the camp was situated now. Jürgen eyed it warily to be sure it hadn't been taken over in his absence. Otherwise, docking would mean mass slaughter of him and all his men. He relaxed on seeing Mael waiting for him with Duach. "Put to shore!" Jürgen ordered his men. He looked back at Elsa, who was coming out of his cabin where she'd been staying this whole voyage, much to his chagrin. He wasn't a fan of sleeping in the bunks with his men. That was not befitting a prince. But then it was less befitting for a queen, so he took it like a trooper. Well, he'd made it obvious he resented her little arrangement, and had seriously considered sleeping with her just so he could avoid the bunks, but had of course ultimately decided against that noise.

"We're here," he said.

"Stating the obvious, Jürgen?" she teased, smirking at him.

"Don't get smart," Jürgen replied, frowning at her. "Let's get out there."

Within twenty minutes they'd pulled to shore. Mael and Duach were looking at Elsa in shock. "Queen Elsa?" Duach asked in disbelief.

"I came to help," she said.

"Um… okay?" Duach more questioned than stated.

"Help get your brothers back," Elsa clarified. Devastation immediately crossed Duach's expression, and he looked miserably down, closing his eyes. He felt so incomplete… Without his twin he felt empty and very much alone. And Hans… He was so afraid for Hans… He'd been noticing concerning signs in the youngest prince. Signs that told of more weariness and pain and mental anguish than was safe to be present in a young man of that age.

Mael nodded at Elsa. "You may want to turn attentions to the Duke of Weselton first. Perhaps your presence can snap him back to life," he said.

Worry filled Elsa's eyes. "What happened to the Duke of Weselton?" she worriedly asked.

"He was injured. Of course even something as simple as a break in a man of his age can become deadly. Elderly people are at high risk of pneumonia following such injury. They are not strong enough to get up and move around like younger men and women would be, and so sometimes it settles in their lungs. If that happens, more often than not they die. The Duke, though, has thus far fared surprisingly well. He broke a leg, but has been doing what he can to move. It was a good thing it wasn't a hip. However, he is starting to get sick. If he gets sick, pneumonia has an open gate. Your presence may shock him back and give him more reason to fight," Mael said.

"Or give him a heart attack," Jürgen deadpanned.

"I'll go to him immediately," Elsa said. As far as she knew the Duke had never had trouble with his heart, so she doubted a heart attack would be the thing that killed him.

"Do," Mael said.

"Anna and Kristoff wed last night in secret," Jürgen said to Mael and Duach, as Elsa walked off.

"Good for them. Hopefully Elsa, when she returns, will get her stuck up council to finally acknowledge that the man is a prince. An unorthodox one, maybe, but a prince nonetheless," Duach said. "Then they can faux wed their way out of that little web of lies."

Frozen

Elsa found her way to the Duke's tent and went inside. The old man was lying on a cot coughing. It didn't sound as if he was coughing or choking on fluids, thank goodness. It meant it wasn't likely pneumonia had set in yet. Erik and Francis were at his side looking concerned. "Erik, Francis," Elsa greeted. They turned to her in surprise.

"Queen Elsa?!" Francis exclaimed in surprise.

"What now?" the Duke asked, eyes opening. He must have been woken up just now. "What about the queen? Has she written back?"

"She's _come_ ," Erik replied in shocked disbelief.

"What?!" the Duke demanded, sitting bolt upright and looking over. His mouth dropped in horror and Elsa had to laugh at how mortified the man appeared that she would be on a battlefield. "Elsa!" he exclaimed.

"Papa," she answered, smile falling to a sad and distressed look.

"When I wrote you that letter I didn't want you to _come_ here!" the Duke exclaimed.

"I know… But I had to," Elsa answered.

"Elsa, there's nothing you can do for Hans and Rhun's sakes!" the Duke said.

"At least I'll try!" Elsa insisted. "Anna will rule the kingdom just fine with Kristoff. They married, papa. Last night in secret, on the Southern Isles. She came home so happy. She wished you'd been there. She says that when the faux wedding takes place, she wants you and me to hand her off because… because our birth father isn't there to do it… You can't let her down, father, so don't even _think_ about getting sick and dying in a foreign land. You need to give away the bride and you need to be there for any children that may be born in the future as a surrogate grandparent," she chastised.

"My god, what have I _missed_?" the Duke asked in shock. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"A night and well into the day now, sir," Erik replied. "We were afraid pneumonia would settle in and that… that you'd never wake up again…"

"It never occurred to you to at least _try_ and get me up?" the Duke demanded.

"We tried. Many times," Francis deadpanned.

"Oh... Well then, time for tea," the Duke said. "Elsa, you will join us? I'm fairly certain the battling for today is done anyway. Err, just what do you plan on doing, young lady?"

"Ending this war with as little death as possible," Elsa answered. "Even if I have to freeze my way to Cumberland to do it."

"Oh naïve child… It will take so much more than that, and so much longer," the Duke gravely replied.

"At least I can try," Elsa insisted. "If nothing else, maybe I can turn the tides. I have more power within me than one-hundred men."

"It isn't one-hundred men we're dealing with, daughter. It's thousands," the Duke said.

"Maybe so, but it's still more than most others can take on. The magic might even scare them off. At least for a while. Or make them uneasy if nothing else," she said.

"Don't expect me to be letting you go at it alone," the Duke stated. "If I can't be there, at least keep one of the Southern Isles princes, or Erik and Francis, with you at all times."

"I'll do what I can," Elsa said as the tea was brought in. She went to the Duke's bedside and sat. "It'll all be okay, dad."

The Duke sighed. "I hope so. But we're not done talking about this," he replied. Elsa smirked affectionately, nodded a thanks for the tea, then sipped some, along with the Duke who certainly did seem much brighter now that she was there, and now that he had heard of Anna's marriage to Kristoff.


	7. Prisoners of War

Prisoners of War

(A/N: Sorry about missing an update yesterday. Worked all day and was too busy to have any time to edit. Still not entirely happy with this editing job, but hopefully it's okay. Again, sorry for missing yesterday's update.)

The captured men were transported in prison carriages towards Cumberland. There was a procession of ten overloaded and overcrowded carts, plus those forced to walk on foot. Of course being nobility in this case was good. It meant Hans and Rhun got the 'luxury' of being stuffed like sardines into one of said overfilled carts. And the 'luxury' of getting to watch their men collapse and die of exhaustion on the march instead of being _among_ those who collapsed and died. Hans watched stonily as another Southern Isles soldier collapsed, near death, and was run through by a Cumberland soldier. He couldn't be angry at the man. It had been a mercy kill, as far as the prince was concerned. That soldier wouldn't have survived anyway.

"You need to stop," Rhun murmured.

Hans's jaw twitched. "Stop what?" he asked bitterly.

"Stop torturing yourself and your mind by looking back at the dying," Rhun answered. Hans was silent. Soon he tore his gaze away from the tiny slit he'd been looking through. Silence, now. Of course. Rhun had never been there for him while growing up, unless it was to wound, and so Rhun would not be there for him now.

"You're holding up well," Hans said with a scoff.

"You would think that, wouldn't you…? You haven't even looked at me since we were taken," Rhun replied. Hans stiffened. He didn't want to look at his sibling now either. "I figured. Always you."

"Don't even," Hans hissed sharply, viciously looking at his brother. He started on seeing him. Rudi was drawn, pale, and sickly looking. To say nothing of how utterly miserable and depressed he appeared. Hans actually felt a shiver. "Rudi?" he asked uneasily.

Rhun scoffed. "Long time since you've called me that," he replied. He looked up at the other prisoners. They looked so dead… so broken… In fact, the one he was looking at now _was_ dead and broken. And starting to smell. He tore his eyes from the sight, looking at Hans. "I feel empty… I feel like I'm incomplete… I always feel that way when apart from Runo… Feeling it now more than ever, because this time it isn't only him I'm apart from. It's all of you. On top of it, I'm stuck with the brother I have the most non-existent relationship with of us all."

"That was your fault, not mine," Hans replied, eyes narrowing. "I was willing to try. You were stuck in whatever little world you and Runo concocted for yourselves where nobody else existed or mattered."

"That isn't true!" Rhun shot.

"Maybe you didn't plan for it to be, Rudi, but that's what it was!" Hans snapped. Rhun was silent glaring at him. "Just leave me alone," Hans said, turning away again. Rhun watched him silently. He heard coughing and turned. Men were getting sick. There would be more deaths soon… He wanted to toss out the rotting bodies. Those were the problem. Unfortunately, they were all chained in place firmly. Prayers could be heard being muttered, over bodies and over sick ones. Mourning sobs sounded from men who had lost brothers or friends or family on the march, and who were now stuck next to the corpses of their loved ones. Rhun shifted in the chains, hoping against hope he'd find some wiggle room. Dammit, these bodies needed to go. He let out a shaky breath, leaning back. He really wished he could clean his glasses. It was a nervous habit, he knew, but it helped calm him down. God knew he needed it now.

"One-hundred-seventy even," Hans remarked. Rhun looked exhaustedly over. "One-hundred-seventy men, that I've counted, have fallen. The one-hundred-seventieth just now," Hans said. He leaned back, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath. "Dammit, these shackles are chafing my wrists." Rhun was silent, glancing down. He knew full well that Hans was underplaying it. The sores were bad, and there was a good bit of blood wetting his sibling's hands.

"Stop fidgeting, damn you," Rhun said. "You're only making it worse."

"Why did you come after me?" Hans demanded.

"Moren's orders," Rhun replied.

"Of course," Hans said, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, smart guy. Why the _hell_ did you run willy nilly into the thick of an enemy army with only minimal backup?!" Rhun demanded.

"You didn't have to come after me, Rhun!" Hans shot.

"You're not answering my question!" Rhun snapped.

"A death wish, happy?! I wasn't thinking, okay?! I just did it," Hans said.

"S**t, we should have pulled you out of that battle sooner," Rhun said.

"Oh you are not going to…" Hans said.

"Damn right I'm going to! You were suffering some weird trauma thing, we all saw it, and we didn't yank you out. Our mistake," Rhun said. "And now it got us here. Thanks a lot, little brother! Half of those men you've watched die wouldn't even _be_ dead if you hadn't done what you did!"

"Don't you dare put this on me you son of a bitch!" Hans shouted. The carriage stopped. The two brothers gasped, stiffening. All eyes were on them accusingly.

"Uh oh," Rhun said. They'd been heard.

Frozen

The back was pulled open. There stood the Duke of Cumberland looking angered and less than impressed. He summed up his prisoners. "Whose voices was I hearing? Who was fighting?" he soon asked.

Rhun and Hans were silent, but when all eyes went to them, there really was no use denying it. "Hey, that's what you get for putting two siblings who despise each other together in close proximity," Hans defiantly replied.

"He charged alone through an army for you," the Duke deadpanned, obviously not entirely believing it, but also not rejecting it flat out.

"Our king's orders. I was dead if I left him, dead if I didn't," Rhun replied. "Better to go out looking like a hero than go out a bane to my family. You want to kill him, by all means be my guest. Only eyes on us now are the eyes of prisoners."

"Yes, by all means kill him," Hans said. "He goes out a hero, I'm rid of him and his nagging voice, everyone's happy."

The Duke looked at them ponderously but gave no such order. He summed up the inside of the prison carriage. "Dump the bodies and finish the dying!" he shouted to his men who were in this long caravan. "I won't have disease brought into my kingdom." Hans and Rhun felt their hearts sink. That meant men, even those who might have otherwise survived, would be executed here. The crying and sobbing and begging began, the pleading for the lives of loved ones that were torn out to be put down.

Both princes were silent, mortified. Hans fixed his eyes on the execution in terror. Rhun couldn't look at all, shutting his eyes tight. "Hans, close your eyes," he murmured to his sibling, sensing Hans's freezing. Hans gasped in horror and did so, snapping back to reality and quickly looking away. When the last of the pleading stopped, and all that could be heard was the weeping of the family members, the carts were closed up. Hans dared open his eyes. Well, it wasn't so overcrowded in here anymore… He felt sick to his stomach and nearly gagged, but he swallowed it back and looked upwards, choosing to try and tune out everything that was happening… And the accusing gazes that were on him and his brother, and the curses, and whatever else was falling on them. The captives needed a scapegoat. So be it. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being a scapegoat. Rhun wasn't, at least not as much, but Rhun was also lost in his own little world, so this probably wasn't even affecting him that much. When he heard his brother sniff, though, it struck him how wrong he was. He glanced over at his sibling, whose eyes were tightly shut, and tensed up. He looked down and away ashamedly. No more words were exchanged the rest of the trip.

Frozen

The captives who survived the journey were lined up now, in front of all the people. They were being separated into groups. One group would remain in Cumberland and go to the dungeons and whatnot. The other group would be stripped and sold into slavery. "This is insanity," Hans hissed to Rhun.

"Shut. Up," Rhun replied.

"Hey, I…" Hans began.

"Don't. Draw. Attention to yourself," Rhun said. Hans looked confused. Rhun, catching the confusion, sighed. "God you're naïve. Look at the eyes watching us, Hans… It's apparent they'd very much like it if you or I ended up in the slave group." Hans stiffened and looked around. He started. Sure enough a good many eyes were on them as the people cheered the Duke's victory. "The ones to be sold will remain here and be put up for auction. The others will be brought to the dungeons."

"What are we, in the Middle Ages?" Hans asked, a note of panic in his voice.

"No, and the common people don't even really know what goes on here, but the Duke has many foreign patrons, and many… unorthodox noble ones who aren't above involving themselves in the illegal slave trade," Rhun replied.

"Do I want to know what kind of slave trade we're talking?" Hans deadpanned.

"Depends on the master," Rhun answered. "Now seriously. Shut up." Hans fell silent. The Duke of Cumberland was nearing. Rhun's jaw twitched and he shifted uncomfortably. He had half a mind to move in front of his brother, but then that would draw attention to Hans and let the Duke know that he wanted his sibling close. As long as he and Hans were together, they stood a good chance of escaping; or at least staying alive. As long as they were going to argue and not get along, they could at least twist and exaggerate it to their benefit. The Duke believed they hated each other. He wasn't all that far off. Both he and Hans had deduced, by now, that the man would be more likely to keep them together if he believed their being stuck in the same cell would be a torment in itself. As long as no defensive action was taken, as long as he didn't give away the fact he actually _gave_ a damn about the pest, as little of a damn as it was— _liar_ —they were fine. "Be wary of tests," he muttered to his sibling.

"I know," Hans replied. Good. Hans suspected the Duke would try to figure them out too.

Frozen

The Duke of Cumberland neared and Hans subtly stepped away from Rhun, noting he'd been gravitating too close to his brother's side to be safe. Time to stay as far away from one another as possible. It wasn't like it was going to be too hard. Rhun, of the same mind, put distance between them as well, as much as he could. The Duke paused in front of them, eyeing the siblings who were glaring heatedly at each other while staying away from one another's sides. "About to get into a confrontation, boys?" he asked.

"No comment," Rhun replied.

"Hmm… You won't need to worry about confrontation any time soon. Or ever again, for that matter," the man said. He looked to Hans. "You there, boy. You're well built. You would make a fine laborer."

"He's also very beautiful. He'd make a fine prostitute or male courtesan too," Rhun added with a dark chuckle.

The Duke looked at Rhun in surprise. "You bastard!" Hans shot sharply.

"Good luck, baby brother," Rhun cooed, giving his brother a cruel look.

"And what if I decided to take you instead?" the Duke asked.

"I'm not the virgin," Rhun replied, smirking bitterly. "You could take me in his place, but you wouldn't get as much for me. I'm older so wouldn't be as much use as a laborer or lover, I'm not quite as good looking so wouldn't be the preferred courtesan, and I'm tainted so really not as 'desirable'. Of course, either way I get away from _him_. It's not like I have the kind of treasure _he_ has to protect anymore, and it's more likely a man will be used for labor than for anything else, so bring it on."

"Why do you always make cracks about my virginity?" Hans demanded angrily. "I'm not the only one of us!"

"You're making the argument for my taking your brother away more tempting," the Duke warned.

"What did you _think_ I was trying to do? Save him? Some reverse psychology mumbo jumbo. Don't make me laugh," Rhun deadpanned. "But, if reverse psychology will work on you, then please, I'm begging you, don't take my brother." The Duke looked less than impressed and moved passed them with a scoff, to more than a little booing.

Frozen

"Wow. You couldn't have sounded more indifferent and smart mouthed if you'd tried," Hans dryly remarked.

"Thank you," Rhun replied in a mutter, smirking.

"It should be me thanking you," Hans replied. The Duke had certainly been seriously considering selecting him to be among the men who would be sold, until Rhun stepped in.

"You're welcome, in that case," Rhun said. "But don't be sure we're clear yet. He will come back and take a few more. It is a cruel game he plays. Make you feel safe, make you feel you escaped… And then rip that hope from you." Hans started, looking worried again.

Sure enough, about three minutes later the Duke came back their way, pointing out more young soldiers as he went, each one looking more devastated than the last. He paused again at Rhun and Hans. "It occurs to me I could sell you both into slavery," he said. Rhun looked visibly uneasy now, so it seemed it was _his_ time to shine, Hans decided.

"You could, but then where would all the fun be for you and your torturers on the off-chance we're playing you like a fool and actually give a damn about one another?" he asked.

The Duke looked at Hans in disbelief. "You wicked boy," he remarked finally. Nonetheless, he went onwards without choosing either of them.

"Clever but risky. Too risky," Rhun warned worriedly.

"No. Tempting but only tempting enough that he'll keep us around," Hans corrected. "Maybe more tests than we would have originally had, but nothing we won't be able to handle. If we'd been chosen to go into the slave line, there's no telling whether we would have stayed together or not." At least together they could maybe have a chance to get away. And if nothing else, they could keep one another's morale up, or try to. Well, that or end up killing each other. Rhun nodded his agreement to that.

Frozen

The lines had been separated now. The men the Duke of Cumberland was keeping for prisoners of war or ransom were herded like animals down into his dungeons. Rhun and Hans made it a point, this time, to keep away from one another. If the Duke caught them trying to stick together, he'd get suspicious. They were turned to face him in a line. The Duke appraised them all. "Strip off your uniforms, all of you," he commanded. "Say for the princes. Let it be known to all that they were the ones who failed you, and they are the ones to unleash any frustrations on. The men gave looks to Hans and Rhun, both who had tensed up with eyes wide. Soon the soldiers shed their armor and dress uniforms down to their underclothes. "Look, princes, at the wretches you are the rulers of now."

"Sooner the rulers of a band of wretches than a band of murderers," Rhun answered coldly.

"You dare call us murderers?" the Duke asked. "War is death, friend."

"I call you and your muscle the murderers, not your men. Your men, like ours, were just obeying orders," Rhun replied. He yelped as the Duke pistol whipped him.

Hans tensed up but quickly hid any reaction, easily - perhaps too easily, he was disturbed to note - he put on a mask of satisfaction, smirking wickedly. "Now do it again," the youngest prince said. The Duke shot him a look. Hans's smirk fell and he tensed up. "Never mind," he said quickly.

"If you're so thirty for your brother's blood, take it and strike him yourself. Go on," the Duke said.

Hans was silent. Rhun gave him a subtle look and nodded. Hans took the pistol and approached his brother. He couldn't afford hesitation now. Get it done, like ripping off a bandage. This was just a test, like everything else. He had planted enough doubt that the Duke wouldn't want Rhun dead. It was one blow. One blow, test was passed, he didn't have to do it again. Pull it off quickly and get it over with. Rhun stood again. Hans struck him violently with the pistol before he could second guess himself. Rhun cried out in pain, falling to the ground. Hans almost gave away a sign that part of him regretted it. Almost, but not quite. He was used to masks… Masks… Always, always masks. He was sick of masks… But right now, masks meant the difference between life and death. Besides, he couldn't deny some disturbing part of him took a sort of delighted satisfaction in injuring the sibling that had injured him so often. For good measure, Hans suddenly dropped and struck Rhun again. Rhun started, taken aback, before quickly catching on and inwardly cursing. Time to prepare to enter fight mode. The Duke acted, snatching the pistol away when Hans appeared to be going for a third strike. Hans started as the pistol was taken and inwardly thanked the Duke. He had been getting caught up in revenge for a moment there.

"Perhaps I should have put you two to slavery after all," the Duke said. Hans rose once more. Rhun was panting for breath. Suddenly he moved, tripping Hans and quickly leaping on him, delivering a vicious blow to his face, then his side, again and again. "Get them apart!" the Duke ordered. Immediately his men moved, pulling the brothers away from one another. Hans looked shocked, but at the same time he understood the reason for the sudden action on his brother's part. They'd both kind of had this coming. "Throw them in the same cell," the Duke commanded. "And be sure they don't kill one another. They will be their own torturers, it seems." Inwardly the two princes were relieved. It meant they were spared some brutality at least… Hopefully… Or not. He may keep on with his original torture schemes and expect them to torture one another on top of it as the garnish, so to speak. Immediately the two princes were roughly dragged deep into the dungeon. No doubt probably to be thrown in the darkest and most uncomfortable one. Probably the most isolated too.

Frozen

Their guess had been right. They were given the most isolated cell, and darkest. And dankest. They could hear the screams from the torture chambers below. Every man who was dragged down they would see and hear pleading for their princes to help them. It wasn't long before Hans had huddled on the bench, burying his face in his knees and trying to tune it out. Rhun was like a statue, looking blankly ahead and feeling nothing. Nothing but helpless and angry and sad and terrified. He looked over at his sibling. Soon enough they would be being forced to watch their men suffering. Hans's head had finally raised now. The prince was looking at something in his hand as the screams echoed. "What is that?" Rhun soon asked.

Hans paused and closed his hand around it, looking up. Finally he opened his hand again. "Something Elsa gave me," he answered. "A pendant."

Rhun, curious, moved over to look at it. His eyes widened, his breath catching. "Hans… my _god_ it's beautiful. She gave you that?" he asked.

Hans smiled gently, for a moment feeling at peace. The smile fell, though, once more. "She did," he confirmed. "The night before we left Arendelle to sail to the Isles in order to prepare for war… She told me she had no man to give it to. Say for me. She gave it to me not as a lover, which was what it was intended for, but as a friend and confidant."

"Hans, no woman gifts something that beautiful and precious to a mere friend and confidant," Rhun stated.

"Well she did," Hans stubbornly replied. Rhun looked at him silently. He wondered if his brother actually truly believed that. He didn't think he did, but Hans was certainly telling himself as much. He didn't bother arguing it. There would be no point. He returned to his side of the cell.

Frozen

It was hours later. They weren't sure how many. Nor were they sure if it was still dark or light. You couldn't tell in this cell. They heard the click of their 'door' being unlocked. Rhun awoke from his catnap while Hans gave up trying to sleep as a lost cause, and instead focused on this. They sat up quickly. The Duke of Cumberland was entering at the side of another, obviously the torturer who seemed to be the sort that took delight in his job. Four men were at their backs. Both princes stiffened. "Seize them," the Duke ordered. Immediately the two heirs were grabbed and wrestled up.

"What's the meaning of this?!" Run demanded.

"It's your turns for interrogation," the Duke replied. Both stiffened, paling. "No better source to get information from than the crown itself."

"Bite me!" Hans snapped. "You'll get nothing from either of us."

"At least nothing you wanted to know," Rhun dryly said. Hans gave him a look that screamed, 'really'. Rhun shrugged. He'd been through 'intensive interrogation' once before. Well, a mild intensive interrogation pushing moderate. The only information pried from him then had been his first sexual exploit, the secrets he'd kept from his parents, and the location of one of his more... embarrassing birthmarks. Surprisingly, sharing that information actually helped things a bit. The ones carrying it out were inexperienced and flustered at some of the scandalous things he'd confessed to. They'd eventually just given up and left him to be devoured by animals. Clearly, that hadn't worked so well for them. This interrogation, he knew, wasn't going to be done by amateurs. He wondered if embarrassing secrets would still make them awkward enough that they'd give up. He'd try it, but he wasn't holding out hope. Time to throw Hans under the train, so to speak.

"We'll soon see just how much we get from you," the Duke of Cumberland answered.

Frozen

Shortly after, the Duke was regretting every second of this. He had, indeed, learned nothing he wanted to know, but enough that his men were thoroughly weirded out and uneasy, practically screaming at him to cut them loose. Of course he didn't, really they hadn't even started the torture before the two young princes were spilling their guts, about each other, but still. "Hans sent a pornographic photo to his bisexual friend!" Rhun shot.

"I didn't do it! It was Franz!" Hans freaked. "And it wasn't even pornographic! Besides, that's not even anything compared to your little stunt, 'bro'! He and his twin decided to play a prank and slept with each other's wives!"

"Nothing happened, damn you!" Rhun freaked. "There was no sex, no inappropriate touching, no… okay, there was kissing and mild caressing, but nothing inappropriate!" Hey, a dye job for Duach, and raised shoes and stuffed sleeves for him, made him and his Runo _look_ like they were twins, so why couldn't they have a little fun with it? The triplets had plenty.

"Enough!" the Duke finally yelled. "What is _wrong_ with you two?!" They sulked silently, backs turned on one another.

"Alright. Enough of this game. Time to get serious. Strip them to their undergarments!" the Duke's torturer, even more unimpressed than the Duke, darkly ordered. The brothers started as they were roughly grabbed and forced to their knees, quickly and efficiently stripped. Okay, this just got serious. No more family issues. Now was the time to brace themselves.

"I assume you're going for a whipping? You can't get more creative than that?" Hans bit.

"A mere whipping? Hmm. I was thinking more a flogging, but then that can wait for a later time. Right now I have something else in mind," the torturer said, going to a forge that was in the room. From the flames he pulled out an iron-like object so hot that metal was almost liquefying. Hans and Rhun's eyes widened slowly in horror. "I'm going to play a game. Test if you two are really as hateful of each other as you pretend to be." Neither spoke. It wouldn't be wise to at this point. He looked towards them and approached, the metal brightly shining. Immediately Rhun closed his eyes. Hans, noticing this, got a bad feeling and followed suite. It wasn't unlikely that thing could blind them, after all. That was probably what had worried Rhun. "Blinding doesn't come until later, your highnesses," the man said, darkly chuckling. Meanwhile, the Duke of Cumberland stepped back to observe.

Rhun suddenly screamed in pain. Hans's eyes flew open and he looked sharply over. The man had pressed the iron against his brother's inner thigh! He tore it away, and with it went flesh. He immediately applied it again to Rhun's navel. Hans looked shocked and horrified. Again blackened skin ripped off. The Duke of Cumberland wandered over to the forge and held his sword in the flames, seemingly ignoring the proceedings. The torturer held the iron towards Hans, who nearly gagged as the scent of burning flesh hit him. "Shall I stop?" he asked the youngest prince.

Hans was silent. "Get the back of his neck next," he finally dared say. "He's sensitive there."

"Now where are _you_ sensitive?" the Duke questioned, withdrawing his now red hot blade from the fire. Immediately he spun and thrust it into Hans's shoulder. Hans cried out in agony. The blade withdrew, cauterizing the wound as it left. "You know, in the medieval ages knights would sharpen their blades by superheating them and plunging them into the body of a slave to be cooled by the slave's blood. Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant process to go through. I think I should like to try it. Reheat the sword," the Duke ordered his torturer. The torturer smirked, bowed, and took the Duke's sword, heating it in the forge again. Hans and Rhun looked up fearfully. "Don't worry. It won't kill. I won't allow it to. I want you both alive... But my will it hurt." The sword was brought back. The Duke took it, looking it over, then turned to the brothers. "Which one, which one?" he asked.

The Duke of Cumberland approached Hans. Rhun looked up in pain. He seriously considered, for a moment, begging the man to choose him, but this was just a test. It was… it was just a test… Hans looked fearfully at the blade, eyes wide. It was just a test, dammit, Rhun shouted at himself, biting his tongue savagely. "Do it!" Hans suddenly shouted. "Come on!" The Duke glared icily at him. "Either or! Bring it on!" The Duke didn't move. "Coward!" Hans shot, lunging at him, though the men holding him down kept him back. The Duke scowled and prepared to impale the young prince.

"Father, no!" a young voice suddenly shouted from the doorway.

Frozen

The Duke paused, looking sharply over with eyes narrowed. Hans and Rhun followed his gaze. Hans's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "Oh my god!" Rhun exclaimed in disbelief. " _Damn_ you, Hans!" That boy. It was the one his brother had spared! They could have killed the Duke of Cumberland's son! It might have stopped any of this from even happening! Or not. Depending on the Duke's relationship to his child.

Hans, meanwhile, was gaping at the boy in disbelief. The kid couldn't be more than fifteen! In fact, seeing him now off of the battlefield... the child looked no more than _thirteen_. And sounded more like a preteen child, whose voice was only just starting to try and break, than a sixteen year old youth. "No? What do you mean, 'no'?" the Duke darkly questioned his son.

"He-he is the one who spared my life, father," the boy shakily said, looking at Hans. "I would be dead if not for him."

The Duke of Cumberland blinked blankly and turned attention back to Hans. Hans looked up at him in disbelief. "Hmm… You would have done better to finish my son off," he said. Nonetheless, he didn't drive the sword into Hans. Instead he whirled on Rhun and thrust the blade into _him_. Rhun shrieked in agony, tossing his head back in anguish. Hans had to savagely bite his tongue from screaming his sibling's name. He wouldn't die, the Duke said he wouldn't die. Dammit, Rhun wouldn't die, he couldn't! The Duke pulled the blade from Rhun's body. Rhun gave a strangled gasp and collapsed to the ground, shuddering. "The cauterization of the wound really does spare lives, it seems." The Duke muttered. "Take him and nurse him back," he ordered his men. "Return his brother to their cell."

Immediately Rhun was dragged off. Hans was inwardly marvelling at how he'd managed to keep on the calm and indifferent mask so well. Inside he was panicking, freaking out, pleading for the sake of his sibling, and various other things he couldn't even pinpoint for himself anymore. He didn't want to resist, when they dragged him away, but that would imply brokenness. He struggled viciously, scowling. He was wrestled passed the boy, who watched him in amazement, and soon enough he was cast roughly back into his cell with a cry of pain. The doors were slammed and he was in darkness again… And so alone… He closed his eyes tightly and scrambled to his bench, reaching under the makeshift pillow and seizing the pendant. He closed his eyes, holding it tightly and close, and curled up to wait for his brother's return… Hope for his brother's return… He looked upwards. This was only the beginning, he realized. This wasn't even torture like what the man planned. This was a game, and from here on it would only get worse.


	8. Temporary Insanity

Temporary Insanity

(A/N: Work is about to happen so I haven't edited this as much as I would have liked. Went over it last night and usually I like to edit once more right before posting, but that's not feasible at the moment, so hopefully last night's edit was good enough. Enjoy.)

He started awake suddenly, on hearing the entrance to the dungeons being opened. He realized he was still holding Elsa's pendant and quickly hid it. If the Duke ever saw it, he knew the man would take it from him. He couldn't allow that. He _wouldn't_. He sat quickly up, watching the door to their cell. It was opened and his brother was dragged in and thrown to the ground. Hans resisted the urge to leap up and go to him. Rhun weakly got to hands and knees and dragged himself over to his bench, crawling onto it as the door was shut again. The moment it was, and Hans was sure the men had gone, he sprang across the room. "Rudi!" he exclaimed.

"Ah! Easy!" Rhun insisted as Hans seized his arms.

"Sorry! I'm sorry," he quickly said. He looked his brother over. "God I'm sorry," he added, this time for a different reason.

"Don't be. You handled it well," Rhun replied. If it had been Hans the Duke stabbed, he wasn't sure he would have been able to keep up as calm a front as his brother had. Not for any care of the brat, but for care of his own sanity.

 _You're a liar._

"Are you okay?" Hans asked.

"No. But I'll live. Sadly," Rhun answered.

Hans was quiet. "This has only just started, hasn't it?" he asked after a moment.

Rhun was silent. "Yes," he finally confirmed. "I never wanted you to go through something like this… If I could protect…" He trailed off.

 _I wish I could protect you from it… Maybe I will._

"It would cost us both if you did," Hans argued, getting an idea of what his sibling had been about to say. Rather, hoping against hope it was what his sibling would have said. You couldn't really tell with Rhun. "I can take it."

"You don't know what he has in store," Rhun replied.

"No, I don't… But I'll suffer it nonetheless," Hans replied.

"You shouldn't have to!" Rhun shot.

"Just rest, Rhun," Hans answered. "You're working yourself up. You need to relax and recover." Rhun sighed but nodded nonetheless, laying down and closing his eyes. Hans was quiet. "Did… Did they torture you? After they saved you?" Hans questioned.

Rhun's eyes opened. Finally he sighed, closing them again. "Don't concern yourself over it, Hans," he replied.

"So they did," Hans murmured.

Rhun opened his eyes once more, looking at him. "It was mild," he soon said. "Less painful than the branding was, even. I have a new set of scars, leave it at that. The doctor was knife happy… Very knife happy… I have a permanent tattoo now, but what can I say? Women love war wounds," he dryly joked. Hans cringed. What _of_ Rhun's wife? How would she react to learning of her husband's fate? He didn't even want to imagine… He didn't want to imagine how painful this was for Rhun either… "Your youngest is four now, isn't she?" Hans murmured.

Rhun was silent. His jaw twitched. "Yes," he finally replied. "At least she'll remember her father if the worst should happen. And I made certain my wife didn't get pregnant before I left to join this damnable war, so with luck I won't return to find another child running about and realize I missed years of its life."

"You really think we'll be here for years?" Hans asked.

"I do," Rhun answered.

Hans was quiet, holding the pendant again. "She told me she would wait for no man," he murmured. Rhun looked over at his sibling and saw him gazing at the necklace again.

"You don't love her. What does it matter to you?" Rhun asked.

Hans shot him a cold look. "No… I don't love her," he confirmed. "It matters to me because…"

"You can't use the same lie for both questions," Rhun said.

"I don't love her!" Hans sharply snapped, returning to his side of the cell and laying down.

"And yet you don't want her to go," Rhun remarked.

"I'll be content with her friendship," Hans replied.

"Then why are you so afraid she'll leave?" Rhun questioned.

"I said shut up!" Hans viciously shouted. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to sleep. Luckily, Rhun decided not to push it. The older brother sighed, shaking his head, then closed his eyes as well.

Two Months Later

Hans hissed in pain as he was thrown up against a wall and bound there. Rhun cried out as he too was thrust against it. The siblings exchanged subtle looks, teeth clenched in preparation for the whipping that was about to come. Again. Every day without fail. Hans set his jaw and bit back a cry as the first strike came. It wasn't as bad as when Jürgen had flogged him with a cat-o-nine-tails the thickness of a bullwhip, he kept telling himself. Of course, Jürgen hadn't struck him as hard as he could have with it either, but it still had hurt more than this. He felt so sick… He wanted to collapse, but to collapse would show too much weakness and only invite worse. God he felt dizzy… And tired…

Rhun was tanking it surprisingly well, eyes screwed tightly shut and teeth grinding together. Only a few more. Only a few more. He began counting the lashes again. It seemed one was added every other day. They had received twenty-nine last count. They would get thirty now, which meant that two months at least had gone by. Dammit, was it day or night, he wondered? For the most part he and Hans slept when they were tired, so hadn't really been able to keep track. They ate without complaint whenever food was brought. Every fifth day. They didn't know if it was breakfast, lunch, or supper, though. It was hard to tell. He used the term 'food' very lightly. Water came every third day, pushing them towards the brink of endurance. Four days would be give or take whether they lived or died, so they'd gone with three. Which was torture in and of itself. He mentally thought things out. If his timing was right, they would finally eat today. Which was good, because he was starving. And water would come as well, he realized. One of the rare times the two days met up. It would be a feast—laugh, laugh—tonight, he noted.

Rhun looked worriedly over at Hans. The youngest prince was pale. He knew why. His brother was getting sick with a flu. He'd thrown up for the first time two days ago. He'd had neither food nor water in his stomach to vomit out, so Rhun could only imagine how painful it had been to puke bile and acid. Without food or water, Hans didn't have the strength to fight said flu, and so was rapidly deteriorating. The illness that should have been so easy for his sibling to fight had gone from mild to bad to severe in a span of two days. Fighting off a disease without strength or nutrients was a struggle Hans hadn't faced before. Something had to be done.

Rhun had asked for medicine, feigning illness of his own. In response, his head had been dunked over and over again into a barrel of water, sometimes held until he was on the verge of drowning before they dragged him out again and shoved him under. He was glad he'd asked for the medicine instead of Hans. It meant baby brother had learned requesting help was a bad idea. It meant his brother wouldn't have to go through something similar for himself. Hans had always been good at learning through the mistakes of others. Taking that torture session for his sick sibling had been the first sacrifice of many he intended to make for the boy, though why he was bothering was beyond him.

Rhun thought things out. After today's meal it would be five days before their next one. With that in mind he knew he couldn't forego food completely, and he definitely couldn't forego water, but Hans needed whatever nutrition could somehow miraculously be gleaned from whatever slop it was they were given to partake of. He still hadn't figured out what the meals were. He bit back a cry as a more-painful-than-usual lash struck him. He would eat the thing he believed was some sort of bread or substitute, he decided, but the rest would go to his brother. He would drink half a glass of the water and slip the remainder to Hans. That way there would actually be something for Hans to throw up next time. Hopefully not before his body had absorbed what nutrients it could from the food, though. Of course Hans wouldn't be on board with that plan, but then Hans didn't need to know. And wouldn't, if he could help it.

The brothers were pulled away from the wall and bound again. Hans didn't even try to struggle or stay on his feet. He all but collapsed. The men had to drag him back to the cell. Rhun walked swiftly, trying to avoid looking at his sibling lest signs of concern were seen. The two were thrust into the cell. Hans lay still, weakly breathing. Rhun staggered up and limped over to him, pulling the other to his feet and limping towards the bench. "Sleep, Hans," he said, laying him on it. "I'll wake you when food is here."

"I feel sick," he weakly said.

"You _are_ sick," Rhun teased gently. He moved a bucket over, getting the sense Hans was about to vomit. Sure enough, he did, heaving and throwing up into it. Rhun stayed close, placing a hand gently on his back and examining the gashes. They needed to be treated, he realized. If he only drank a quarter of the water, and used two more quarters to rinse the injuries… Drinking so little, though, would drastically cut down his odds of surviving to the next watering day. He wouldn't risk that when he had another to care for. He could spare half a glass, though. But then that meant Hans only got his own glass of water, and that wasn't going to be enough. He could, he supposed, take his chances with drinking only a quarter of his glass and using only a quarter to try and bathe his brother's injuries. There was so much to consider, dammit… "You'll be okay," Rhun murmured. It was himself he was getting unsure about. Hans, shivering, weakly nodded and closed his eyes, shaking in the cold. Rhun stayed at his side solemnly, then shifted. He removed the tatters of Hans's shirt—it wasn't like it was protecting him from the cold much anyway anymore, at this point their cloths were only rags—and bound his sibling's injuries. If he couldn't wash them, he could at least protect them from getting more dirt in them. Hopefully it would be enough.

He moved to the other side of the cell. He couldn't spend longer tending his sibling, lest they return to the prison sooner than usual and catch him in the act. He'd made sure the bandages were wrapped in a way that could pass as Hans wrapping them. A few minutes later, food came with water. Rhun rose silently, taking it. He examined the rations then immediately added his own to Hans's plate, taking only the slice of what he assumed was bread, and a little of what he assumed was some sort of meat, just to keep his strength up. He began chewing said bread and meat while examining the water and trying to figure out how to do this. He might as well give up on the idea of being able to bathe Hans's injuries. He sighed in annoyance and looked at the cup Hans had been given. He took his own and poured as much of it into the cup as would fit. When Hans was awake, he wouldn't be able to slip him more. He drank what was left of his water thirstily and almost regretted giving up so much of it to his sick brother. At least the glasses were large enough to keep them alive.

Emptying the glass, he went to Hans and lightly shook him awake. Hans exhaustedly looked at him. "Food and water are here, sleeping beauty. More than usual. Perhaps the Duke finally noticed you were sick, or one of his men," Rhun said.

"Or it was a mistake," Hans muttered. He climbed out of bed, obviously aching, and paused, noticing the dressings. He blinked blankly. "Rhun? You did this?" he asked, looking surprised and honestly a little touched.

"Something had to be done," Rhun replied. "I'm just sorry I couldn't bathe them too."

"What about you?" Hans asked.

"I'll tend to myself after you've eaten and drank," Rhun replied. "Ration it, little brother. It might tide you over to tomorrow. And if you throw up again, at least you'll have more food to put into your body."

"Did you ration yours?" Hans asked.

"Yes," Rhun lied smoothly. Hans nodded and went to the food, eating it slowly and carefully, hoping it didn't upset his stomach too much. He savored every bite. He always did. Rhun actually had to look away, attempting to hide the grumbling in his stomach. It didn't work.

"Maybe you didn't eat enough," Hans worriedly said.

"I ate enough," Rhun stubbornly replied.

"Here, take the bread," Hans said.

"You need it more than I do, Hans," Rhun replied.

"I'll be fine without the bread," Hans replied. He didn't like it anyway, though beggars really couldn't be choosers, he supposed. "I'm not letting you refuse it."

"Of course not. Why would you ever listen to something that's good for you?" Rhun bitterly asked. Hans visibly cringed and said nothing. Rhun sighed, biting his tongue. "Sorry, just… Kind of stir crazy. Or getting there fast. It's so…"

"Dark and small?" Hans asked.

"Please don't," Rhun pled. Hans cringed. His brother was getting claustrophobic and suddenly realizing exactly how tiny and dank their prison was, he noted. Which was bad. If Rhun began to think too much on their cell, he'd go crazy. It seemed his big brother's mind always needed to be occupied with something else and focused on problem solving, plotting, thinking, whatever it took to keep it going. If Rhun's mind was idle too long, things got testy and Rhun got ornery. A little cuckoo too.

"Eat, Rudi," Hans said.

Rhun was silent. Soon, though, he took the bread and ate it. "Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Hans replied. "Do you need something more to drink?"

"Hans, you're sick, you're weak, and you're wounded. Let _me_ be the big brother and caregiver, okay? You need nursing more than I do right now," Rhun said.

Hans looked down meekly. Damn he hated how right his big brother was. "Fine," the youngest prince relented.

"Good," Rhun said. "Enjoy it, baby brother. It's worth two meals, what you have. At least you'll have something for tomorrow as well."

"And you," Hans said.

"And me," Rhun confirmed, ensuring he didn't agree too quickly lest Hans get suspicious. The boy was no fool. You had to be very, very cautious with Hans. The slightest slip up could give you away, where he was concerned.

One Month Later

Hans carved another cut into the wall and surveyed it. Three months. They'd been in captivity three months. For the most part it hadn't been bad. The Duke assumed they were tormenting each other far more than _he_ ever could, plus now he knew Hans had been the one to spare his son's life - assuming he even cared about the boy, that was - so brutality wise they had gotten things lighter than expected. Not a lot lighter, but enough lighter. He looked over at Rhun and frowned. It hadn't taken him long to determine what his sibling had done for him a month ago, when he was sick. The next day had come. Hans had eaten, Rhun hadn't. He'd asked why and Rhun had told him he would eat later while Hans was napping. He'd become suspicious and soon after feigned sleep, but kept a watch on his brother. It wasn't as if he could have napped if he wanted to anyway. He'd been kept up by fever that had bordered on delirious. _Rhun_ had believed it was delirious; believed that Hans didn't know what he was doing. Rhun had thought Hans was too out of it to notice his tending him while he 'napped'. Tending him, but not eating. He'd known the truth then, alright. He'd known what his brother had given up for him for some reason Hans still had trouble fathoming. It wasn't like Rudi had ever cared much before, but maybe it was just another way to keep his mind occupied.

The young Admiral looked resentfully over at his older sibling. Well, it was a cross of resentful and grateful. He'd let Rhun have it, when he'd recovered. He'd recovered in no small part thanks to the extra food and water. Rhun had just laughed and answered it was good to have him back. He'd said little more, and Hans had had nothing to say in response… The next week Rhun had begun to deteriorate… Not physically, he still seemed fine _that_ way, but mentally. He was pacing back and forth constantly muttering, carving images into walls as if frantic to keep his mind busy with things. Infinite amounts of unfocused thinking time for Rhun equalled bad, it would seem. He was honestly and genuinely concerned for his brother's sanity.

"Rhun?" Hans asked. Rhun stopped muttering a moment and looked at him. At least his sibling still knew his voice. "You need to stop," he said. "Focus on me, if you can't focus on anything else. I can hold an intelligent enough conversation to keep your beautiful mind occupied."

Rhun gave him an incredulous and slightly reproachful glare. "It is beautiful, isn't it," he finally replied, smirking to himself.

"Yeah. So best you not lose it," Hans said.

"What is sanity and insanity?" Rhun replied.

"And you're gone," Hans remarked with a sigh.

"Don't patronize me, boy," Rhun replied. "I'm sane. Still. Barely."

"You're getting consumed by your own mind," Hans replied. "Don't think I haven't noticed… You're scaring me, Rudi…"

"Don't be scared of me. Please," Rhun begged almost meekly. Hans was taken aback by the meekness in his voice and looked over. Rhun was looking at him almost pleadingly. Desperately.

Hans blinked and looked away. "I'm not afraid of you," he replied.

"But you have been… Before…" Rhun remarked. "I made you afraid of me."

"You weren't the only one," Hans replied.

"I thought it was a protection for you, to isolate you, make you fearful… Runo believed it would make you all tougher. He believed it would make you all more adept to survive, and if it didn't that it was just a few less mouths to feed. People were bad. People couldn't be trusted. Not the people _we_ knew. People were horrible and terrifying and not worth second chances. There was us and us alone, no one else," Rhun mused.

"Okay, you need to stop. Lay down, big brother. You're not all there," Hans said.

"You'd think that, but I'm afraid I am," Rhun said. "I _wish_ I wasn't. Then I wouldn't be forced to look back on what a creep and monster I was and evaluate all my past sins, transgressions, and failures."

"Stop," Hans simply said. "Please."

Rhun shook his head. "I'm a terrible person," he muttered half to himself and half to Hans.

"Weren't we all," Hans replied.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I forgive you," Hans said.

"No you don't," Rhun answered.

"What do you want me to say?" Hans asked.

"That you hate me and that you'll never forgive me," Rhun said.

"Why? I don't hate you, not as much as I once did, and there's no point in me holding a grudge against you forevermore. It doesn't help either of us now," Hans replied.

"I want you to hate me and to condemn me because then, if I die or _do_ go insane, maybe it won't be as hard for you," Rhun replied.

Hans started, blinking, then looked down. "Yes. It _would_ be," he answered.

Rhun looked at his sibling in disbelief. Hans gave him an understanding smile and sincere nod. Rhun blinked and opened his mouth to say something in response, but then shut it again, at a loss for words. He looked upwards. "I suppose I could talk of alternate scenarios. Maybe that would keep me occupied. Alternate futures that Lars looked into, against my wishes. Such a thing zaps strength from him, you know."

"He can look into what could have been?" Hans asked.

"His power is growing, Hans… I fear one day soon it will consume him…" Rhun said. "I've begged him to stop, most of us have, but he never does because he has a death wish."

Hans cringed and looked down sadly. "What sorts of things did he see?" Hans questioned.

"Well, in one future you genuinely were interested in other men as well as women," Rhun teased.

Hans started then glared at him, unimpressed. "Are you taunting me?" he asked.

"No, I'm serious," Rhun said, snickering. "That racy picture Franz sent to Scharff? That was indeed sent by you. Tsk, tsk, you were a… curious sort. Of course, you died a bachelor and virgin, but ah well. And you sent a love letter to Edvard Collin."

"I did," Hans deadpanned.

Rhun blinked blankly, looking at him, then frowned. "Not in jest. It was a serious one," Rhun replied.

"As far as you know," Hans replied, smirking conspiratorially.

"You clever bastard," Rhun replied, amused. He looked up again, and his expression became solemn. "In some you died…" Hans tensed. "You would be the wicked monster they saw you were. You would have no good in you. You would betray, join forces with other villains, usually end up killed by them… There are twelve who would mourn you, you know, if anything like that ever did occur… As little as you may believe it, as little as others might believe or even us, we would mourn… But I won't let anything happen to you…"

"Rhun, don't do me any favors," Hans pled. "I don't need your blood on my hands too."

"That's what big brothers are for," Rhun answered. "I suppose you would never have guessed as much… _We_ hardly did until recent events…"

"Tell me more of these alternate futures," Hans said, cutting Rhun off.

Rhun gave him a look, but accepted the change. He tapped his chin ponderously, then smirked. "Well, in one you lose Elsa. To a woman. In that timeline her heart is with other girls," he teased. "Although, you don't necessarily even have her there. I'm not sure. Yet to be seen."

Hans blinked blankly. "What?!" he freaked finally.

"Oh don't get sore. In another she loses you to a man," Rhun heckled.

"You know what, damn the alternate possible futures. Let's talk about something else," Hans said, unimpressed.

"Oh little brother, calm yourself. _This_ is the true time, after all. Those other scenarios will not come to be. Even if they did, it wouldn't effect us," Rhun said. Hans chose to pout rather than answer. Rhun chuckled then became distant again, looking up. "I never wanted to become this," he soon said. "I wanted to protect them. All of you who came after me. Lars, Jürgen, and Caleb never talked about what happened to them, but I knew. I could guess. Everything that was done to them, everything that was put on them... And I couldn't let it happen to you. Any of you. I promised myself so many times that I would look after my younger siblings and not shut them out or ignore them like the big three were doing. I promised to protect them... I held the newborn in my hands, and I said to her, 'Mommy, I promise I won't let anything happen to Calcas or Connyn or Coth. I'll protect them forever'. I promised and I couldn't keep that promise. I shut them out, like I had been shut out... Then Kelin-Sel. Another broken vow. 'I'll protect him, mama, I'll never let anything hurt him'. I promised and I couldn't, because for whatever reason I obsess over one thing at a time, and he suffered like Caleb and Jürgen and Lars had. I couldn't protect him because... Why couldn't I protect him? Was I really that lost in my mind and my own world with Runo? And for each subsequent brother after. 'I'll protect him this time, mama, I promise'. Another failure!" Angrily Rhun threw a bowl to the side of the cell violently. Hans stayed quiet, looking miserable. He didn't want to hear this. "Then you... You... A babe so small it could fit in my hands... But mother was done hearing my broken promises... She told me not to speak. Ordered it... So I didn't... I didn't... I gave you back to her and left..." Rhun closed his eyes tightly, willing back a burning in his eyes. "I will protect him, mother... This time you won't silence me. I will protect him, and you'll see me redeem my past failures... Then will you love me again...?"

"Rudi, come back, please," Hans pled in a whisper, noticing his brother slipping away.

"She's here..." Rhun breathed, looking ahead at nothing. Hans inwardly shuddered. Was his brother seeing their dead mother? He looked over. Part of him almost hoped it was true so that _he_ could see her one last time too. "Please... Please, mother... Don't hate me anymore. Please... No. No, don't turn your back from me! Mom, listen to me! See him. See your favorite! See your pride and joy and know he will live! I promise you he will live. He must. If I have to die for his sake, I will. I know you would prefer me dead to him. Please... Just please don't forget me. Don't walk away. I need you. I always needed you. Mom, please!"

Hans stayed back from his brother, watching in anguish. What was Rhun even doing anymore? Hans looked at the place again, drew a breath, then rose. It was time to slip into his brother's mentality. Then maybe he could bring him back. "Mother, if you disown my brothers, you disown me too," he said suddenly. Rhun seemed to snap back to himself, at least partially, sharply looking over at Hans with eyes wide in disbelief. "You won't walk away from him... If you walk away from him, you walk away from me... I will follow my sibling to death, if I have to. You will not see a single one of them sacrificed for me. I won't allow it. I know you believe you love me, but if you've hated my brothers, you've hated me. You will not walk away from him. He will keep his promise this time, and you'll feel pride for your son again," he said to nothing. Strange... Even speaking to nothing almost made things feel better... Perhaps that was why men went mad in isolation. Perhaps it wasn't really insanity. Perhaps it was just loneliness and fear. Fear of being left or doomed again. Fear of having no one to lean on say for what you remembered from a past the was once good and safe, before pain came and settled in the mind.

Rhun looked back at the spot where he'd been gazing then turned from it quickly, drawing in a sharp and shaky breath. He had to get a grip. He had to stop. If he let this continue, there would be nothing left of him to save. When one lost their mind, what did they have left? "I'm sorry," he heard himself whisper to Hans.

"Come back," Hans pled.

"I'm here," Rhun assured quietly. "More or less."

Frozen

Just then the door to the cellblock was heard opening. Quickly the two struck up a yelling match without even really knowing what they were yelling about. It was something along the lines of accusing one another of stealing each other's rations. It was getting harder and harder to keep up this front. They just wanted to sit in silence and talk normally, but sitting in silence wouldn't be good for either of them—they'd likely break all the sooner—and talking normally would open them up to more of the Duke and the torturer's little mind games that they couldn't afford to face.

They looked sharply over as their cell door opened, pausing in their argument. The Duke stood there with the torturer and was now summing them both coldly up. They fell silent and backed away from one another. "Take the boy," the Duke commanded. Hans's eyes widened in shock. Rhun stiffened, his own eyes widening. What now?

"For what reason?!" Hans demanded.

"An experiment of human endurance," the torturer replied for the Duke.

"A what?!" Hans demanded.

"Don't worry. We have plans for your brother too, but that comes later," the torturer stated. Hans yelped as he was seized roughly and dragged up. "Bring his brother to watch!" the torturer ordered. The Duke was quiet, silently observing.

"What are you doing to him?!" Rhun demanded.

"Do you care?" the Duke asked.

"Don't insult me! Whatever happens to him is what I'll need to compare _my_ fate to!" Rhun snapped. "Where are you taking my brother?!"

"You'll see soon enough," the Duke replied. Rhun gasped as he was seized and bound along with Hans.


	9. Torment and Anguish

Anguish and Torment

(A/N: Anguish and Torment of two varieties. Physical and Mental. Physical for the brothers, mental for Aaron.)

Hans struggled frantically against the men pulling him towards what could only be described as a stone and iron oven in the ground. Rhun was frantically struggling himself. Perhaps more so than Hans, but for a different reason. That reason being because he was about ready to throw away this charade if it meant saving his brother from that godforsaken pit. To do so, though, to offer himself, might only make _certain_ Hans was put in there. But if he didn't act, Hans went in anyway as a test! Wasn't it better to try to help him? No, it wasn't. Then the next time Hans would be targeted again in order to get to him. Seeing his baby brother suffer like this a second time would be a far worse punishment than anything they could do to him otherwise. For his sibling's sake, he had to remain quiet… But god, to stay quiet for this… A moment of panic went through him. They would bake his sibling if they put him in there! The sun was merciless in the day. Hans wouldn't survive five hours!

"Are you out of your minds?! This is an execution, not torture!" Hans protested frantically.

"Is it? Hmm? I suppose we'll see," the Duke answered.

"Why are you doing this?! Why?!" Hans demanded. The Duke paused momentarily, a flash of confusion going through his eyes before he continued walking again without answering. Hans cried out as they threw him into the pit in the ground and shut it, locking it tight. At least he was outside, Hans dryly said to himself. "Don't do this, please!" Hans begged. "You can't! My Lord Duke, I beg you!"

Rhun could only gape in horror and savagely, repetitively, bite his tongue and check himself to be sure he didn't do anything that gave them away. He gasped as they bound him to a tree tightly by chains. They chained his hands upwards too, so he wouldn't find a way to escape. He tried to pull away, but it was a useless endeavor. Quickly and efficiently he was gagged. "Hear your brother scream… Until he doesn't," the torturer said to the older prince before turning and walking away, following the Duke. Rhun looked after them in terror. The Duke, he noted, didn't move normally. He moved like… like it wasn't him in that body… Or like he was a mechanical automaton. Rhun sharply looked back towards the pit, eyes wide.

 _Conceal don't feel, don't give yourself away. Don't give yourself away… Oh god, Hans! No, no, don't give it away. It'll only be worse for him then._

With a subtle shiver, he closed his eyes tightly and willed away the sounds of Hans pleading for the Duke to let him out.

 _Stop, Hans. Stop. You're only making it worse. For both of us. And so much harder. Please stop._

Hans did, finally, stop, and Rhun let out a shaky breath. Now, though, he wondered why. Please let his sibling be okay. Please…

Frozen

"Why are you doing this, father?!" the Duke of Cumberland's son demanded.

"It is not your place to question me, whelp!" the man shot sharply.

"I don't understand! Papa, he spared my life! Please let him go. That man does not deserve your cruelty. Neither him nor his brother!" the boy protested.

"Get out of my way," the Duke said, shoving passed his child.

"No!" Aaron protested, moving in front of his father again. "Listen to me, please! Don't do this! Let him go. For _my_ sake!" He yelped as his father struck him viciously. Shocked, he looked up at the man in hurt.

"You stupid, ungrateful little waif! I have done _everything_ for your sake!" the Duke roared. "They will endure whatever I wish them to endure! You will not turn my heart." The Duke turned, storming towards the 'mirror room', as everyone called it. When he entered, Aaron knew he wouldn't see his father for possibly days.

"Dad!" Aaron called after him. The man didn't turn. "Dad, what is my name?!"

The Duke froze in place, looking up but not turning. There was dead silence for a long moment. "Burdensome Waste," the man finally answered, and the child felt as though he'd been stabbed through the heart. The man entered the room, and the boy sobbed, closing his eyes tightly.

Frozen

Hans lay in the pit, huddled close on himself. The sun beat down so harshly. He felt like dying. He wished he _would_. It was so hard to even open his eyes anymore. The heat was so intense… How was he not blistering and burning yet? He should be. The iron was so hot, and the stone… It was like he was in an oven, baking alive. How much longer before he succumbed? He whimpered, closing his eyes again. He was going to be so horribly sunburned after this, he noted to himself slightly humorously. Humorously because sun burning was the _least_ of his worries in this godforsaken pit. Cooking alive was a bigger concern, but he didn't even want to _think_ about that. He would be so beyond out of it when finally they dragged him out.

He heard a hiss and opened his eyes. He frowned. Water? The floor was apparently hot enough for the water to evaporate almost instantly and hiss. Wait… Where would water even come from? He felt it splashing down on him suddenly and jumped slightly, looking quickly up. His eyes widened in shock. The Duke's son was there, pouring water down from above and onto him! He blinked up at the boy then closed his eyes tightly, relishing in the cooling feel. He wanted to ask why the child was here, but he just didn't have the energy. He wanted to enjoy every second of this water. It stopped and he felt dejected, but soon the kid was back, pouring more down onto him. Hans opened his eyes, looking suspiciously at the boy. The teenager— _was_ he a teenager?—finished pouring the water, left, then returned once more. This time he lowered something down. Hans squinted then started. Water. The teen was giving him water. He gasped and dove for it with all the strength he could muster. Which was very little. He used it to cool his lips and mouth first before daring to drink it, lest it shock his body. The boy then brought out a blanket, spreading it over the pit and leaving Hans in blessed shade. Hans could have cheered, except when he tried his voice didn't come. Well, something that _could_ pass as a sound came out, but it was parched and hoarse and basically silent. He cursed it. Cursed the fact he couldn't praise the boy and thank him. Why, though, was the child doing this? He frowned again suspiciously. What did he gain?

Meanwhile, Rhun was looking at the Duke's son in shock, eyes wide but filled with gratefulness. The young one looked over at him curiously. Rhun bowed his head to him and turned away. He wouldn't expect the same kindness from the child. He had been the one advocating for the teen's death in battle, after all. And punishing Hans for sparing his life. That boy owed him no kindness, so he wouldn't ask for one or give any indication he wanted one. The teenager approached cautiously, warily eying Rhun. "Are you thirsty?" he asked.

Rhun looked up at him incredulously, still gagged. The boy blushed nervously, realizing Rhun couldn't very well answer when gagged. But if father saw him even anywhere near these two… But they were hurt and he wanted to help them! He didn't like seeing them like this. He took a deep breath and ungagged the prince. Rhun shook his head and grimaced, glad the cloth was out of his mouth. The boy opened his mouth to speak again, but Rhun cut him off. "Is my brother alive? Is he alright?" he immediately demanded in a whisper, lest anyone else be nearby and spying on them for any signs of concern. For all he knew this boy was his father's lookout, but he couldn't refrain from asking anymore. He had to know!

The boy blinked. "I thought you two hated each other," he said.

"We did… Once… Not even long ago," Rhun replied. "Just answer, kid."

"He's… not okay, but he's alive. And he has water now," the boy replied. "Do you need water too?"

"Give whatever you have to my brother," Rhun replied. The boy looked surprised. "I suppose I shouldn't be offended that you're so shocked I have a heart, given the incident on the battlefield," he said with a sigh.

The boy was quiet. "You need to drink," he soon said in response.

"Hans needs it more," Rhun replied sharply.

"There's no shortage of water here," the boy said. "You aren't in a cell anymore and confined to one glass every three days. As long as my father doesn't know I'm doing this, I can smuggle you as much as you want."

Rhun blinked rapidly, taking this in. They'd become so used to portions, that the idea of water not being limited had become foreign to them. "Fine," he soon relented. "How long have we been here? Prisoners in Cumberland?"

The boy shifted. Four months, going on five," he answered.

"What is your name, child?" Rhun asked.

"I'm not a child!" the boy protested. Rhun gave him a stern look. The boy sighed in annoyance, but relented. Okay, so he was. "My name is Aaron."

Rhun nodded. "Why are you offering to help us?" he asked this Aaron.

"Because your brother spared my life," Aaron answered.

"I showed you no such kindness," Rhun deadpanned. "And as far as you knew, we hated each other, so you certainly didn't offer me help for his sake."

"Kindness can go a long way," the boy replied.

"I don't suppose you learned that from your father," Rhun dryly said. Aaron was quiet. He bowed his head low, closing his eyes. Rhun cringed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"My father used to be good…" Aaron quietly said. "Then just… Something changed… He stopped being my father like I knew him and he became… I don't know…"

"You learned from your father to be kind?" Rhun said, wonder not well hidden in his voice.

"Yes sir," Aaron answered. "And merciful, and good, and to hate violence and war, and to be fair, and many things like that."

Rhun was silent, thinking this over. That was so strange… He didn't trust it. Was it possible this man was another shadow, like the one Franz and Hans had spoken of, and that the true Duke of Cumberland was dead? But it didn't seem to add up, or feel right. Surely that wasn't it. It just… wasn't. He wasn't sure how he was so certain of that, but he was. That man wasn't a shadow. That man was flesh and blood… So what brought on the change, then? The prince looked at the boy. "Thank you," he said to him. "For all you're doing… If you choose to keep helping us, be careful. Please. We don't need the blood of a boy at his own father's hands on our consciences." Aaron nodded and hurried off to bring more water.

Frozen

Hans was sitting against the now cool walls of the pit. The blanket was pulled away from the hole and he winced, closing his eyes. After a moment he opened them, looking up. The boy was there again. He had heard him talking to Rhun. Aaron was his name. Hans watched him silently. "Father is coming in two more hours to let you out," Aaron said to him. "The torturer wanted you here for days, but father refused because you spared me so he owes you a leniency." Hans was quiet. Aaron looked down, supposing that the prince wouldn't speak. Or couldn't. "I have to leave you without shade, now, or father will know what I did. He might know even now and I'll be punished, but not as badly hopefully. Here. I brought you more water." He lowered it down. Hans looked at it then sighed, taking it and drinking deeply. He let it go and Aaron pulled it back up. "I'm sorry… That he's done this to you," Aaron said. Still no answer. Aaron shifted then rose to leave.

"Don't apologize for your father's wrongs," Hans suddenly said. Aaron looked down at him. "It won't help either you or him in the long run."

"Someone has to," Aaron replied.

"Then he'll apologize before I cut off his head," Hans deadpanned.

"Please don't," Aaron said.

"There are men not worth pleading for," Hans said. "I'm one of them. Or was. Your father is one too."

"I will fight to protect my father," Aaron said.

"Then you'll die with him," Hans replied.

Aaron was quiet. "I don't believe you," he finally said.

"Your mistake," Hans replied. "How old are you, boy?"

"Thirteen," Aaron replied proudly. "I just turned thirteen today."

"What the hell was a twelve year old doing fighting on a battlefield?!" Hans sharply demanded, frowning at this. If he'd just turned thirteen today, then he'd been twelve when he'd faced the kid.

Aaron shifted. "Father didn't know," he sheepishly replied. "I was good enough!"

"You're a child!" Hans shot.

"My father's the only thing I have left!" Aaron insisted. "Don't you see? I _had_ to!"

"You'd be better off without him," Hans said.

"What would _you_ know?!" Aaron demanded.

"Our father was as much a monster as yours is, if not more!" Hans sharply snapped. "And believe me that's saying something. The hell right do you have to be so good and merciful when you're being raised by that psycho?!"

"Hans, enough!" Rhun sharply shouted from his position by the tree.

Aaron looked over towards Rhun, then back at Hans. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded of Hans.

Hans scowled at him then sighed, leaning back. "Sorry, just… Too much has been happening…" he answered in a murmur. "I'm afraid I'm not quite myself." Or he was… Or he was slipping back into the damn mask he'd been wearing most of his life. Shut off, hate, conspire, betray. No one's worth the trouble. People are horrible and the only way you survive in the world is to out-horrible the horrible.

Aaron was quiet. "I'm sorry… About your relationship with your father," he said.

"There _was_ no relationship," Hans deadpanned.

"But I had one with mine… He used to love me," Aaron said. Hans was quiet. He'd heard _that_ part of the conversation too. He was no less weirded out by it now than he was then. What on earth had happened to the Duke of Cumberland to make him into psycho daddy?

"Go home, boy," Hans soon replied. "You've done what you could. Thank you. We'll be sure your father never knows. I can act, if nothing else." Aaron nodded and moved away. He put the gag back on Rhun then quickly scrambled off, Rhun looking curiously after him. Hans used to be like that… Well, more bitter, but close enough. Then things got worse. He hoped his brother's fate didn't befall this boy. The kid was sweet. It would be such a pity.

Frozen

Aaron sat in his room working on a little project. It was a model ship. Father had taught him how to carve when he'd been small. They'd always whittled together. Sometimes they would make little soldiers and other objects like that, then play games together with them… Then father didn't come anymore… Aaron paused, looking at the ship. It was one of his best carvings to date. He had always had a talent for whittling, father had said. He had told him he could be a great carver one day. He'd said that even if they'd been poor, they could have made a living off of selling the little figurines Aaron came up with... Those had been good days… He felt tears burning his eyes and furiously brushed them away, sniffing. He put the ship down. He'd need to get more materials to finish it up.

"My lord?" a voice called from outside of the door gently. A servant.

"Yes?" Aaron called back.

"Your meal is served," the servant replied.

"I'm coming," Aaron said, going to the door and opening it up. He looked up at the servant. "Thank you for coming to get me," he said to her. She smiled affectionately at him, ruffling his hair gently.

Aaron hurried passed and went into the dining room. Maybe father would be there this time? He hoped so, but he'd long ago stopped expecting that hope to come true. When it did, though, it was always the highlight of the day. Which was sad given father never talked to him. When he did it was always impersonal and cold and sometimes biting or hurtful. At least he was there, though. It was _something_. He always dreamed that one day he would go down to eat and father would be there. He'd be smiling and gentle and like he used to be, and everything would go back to normal. Everything would be okay again. He'd apologize for all the times he'd hurt his son, he'd apologize for becoming a stranger. He'd beg forgiveness and promise with all his heart that he would always be there for him from that day on. But it never happened… One day, though, right? He-he couldn't be the stranger forever, right…? Dad would come back. He _had_ to. He wanted his father back!

He entered the dining room, daring to hope. His hope, again, was shattered. There was no parent sitting there. He would have even been happy to see his father there and looking angry or impersonal. The man's presence was all he asked for. Was that really too much? "Where is my father?" he questioned quietly.

The servants were silent. They'd run out of excuses to give years ago. At the end of the day, the man just wasn't there. Not for any reason, just because he chose not to be. Or forgot to be. "I'm sorry, young master. Your father can't make it," the butler finally replied. Aaron looked down sadly. They'd also stopped saying 'he sends his regrets', he noted. They had long ago. Even when they'd been saying it, it had been lies. Father had never said any such thing. In the beginning he had, then somewhere along the lines he'd stopped. Aaron wondered, briefly, how long it would be before the servants stopped saying 'can't make it' and started saying 'won't come', or just saying 'he isn't here'.

"Alright," Aaron said quietly. He went to his seat and sat, picking listlessly at the food. He wasn't hungry. He never was anymore, it seemed. He just didn't have the energy or motivation to eat. He just did because he knew he had to in order to stay healthy and, well, alive. That went without saying. He sighed deeply.

Frozen

Suddenly the door to the dining room opened. Aaron looked quickly up and his eyes widened in hopeful disbelief. His father was there, looking in at him. Expressionless, perhaps cold, but the man was _there_! "Papa!" Aaron exclaimed, leaping up. He wanted to run into the man's arms and hug him so tightly his father would hardly be able to breathe. Last time he'd tried to, though, he'd been shoved away like a disease. Onto the ground, in fact. For a dreadful moment he'd been afraid the man would hit him, but the Duke had seemed to get a hold of his outrage and had lowered his staff again. The time before that, the Duke had allowed it—he'd been in a relatively good humor that day, given he'd just won a victory—but hadn't returned the embrace in the slightest. Just had seemed perturbed.

"My Lord Duke!" the butler exclaimed.

"Sir!" the servant said with a gasp.

The Duke eyed them both icily. "Leave," he ordered. He turned to Aaron. "I need to speak with my spawn alone." Aaron tensed up. Uh oh… That was never good. He felt his heart sink. At least, though, the man was there. Nervously the butler and servant left. Aaron sat back down. The Duke watched him a long moment. Aaron shifted uneasily. Soon the Duke approached the table and sat by his plate. He began to eat wordlessly. Aaron took it as a cue that he was invited to eat too. His appetite was back now, at least. He ate contentedly.

"You were seen near the pit," the Duke suddenly remarked.

Aaron froze, fork halfway to his mouth. After a moment he lowered it and looked up at his father, fear in his eyes. "I wasn't," he replied.

"Don't you _dare_ lie to me," the Duke icily stated.

Aaron hunched in on himself, looking down and swallowing. Appetite was gone again. "I-I was just curious," he said weakly, voice breaking slightly. "I wanted-wanted to see who they were. I didn't do anything!"

"Indeed," the Duke remarked. "You know, the youngest prince wasn't supposed to be pulled out of that hole conscious. I ensured that if he wasn't dead when we dragged his body out of that godforsaken oven, then at least he would be knocked out a good long while."

"He's stronger than he seems," Aaron replied.

" _No_ man is that strong. Would you like me to prove that to you?" the Duke said as the door opened. Aaron turned curiously and paled. The torturer! He'd never liked that man. Not the look of him or smell of him or sound of him. He was terrifying and gave him very bad feelings. If that man was here… The boy shivered and turned quickly, fearfully, back to his parent, confusion and hurt and betrayal in his eyes. "Perhaps _you_ want a turn in the pit?" The boy's eyes bugged wide. He wasn't serious, he told himself. He couldn't be! "I didn't think so. Now, what did you do?"

"Nothing," Aaron insisted.

"I said don't lie to me!" the Duke roared, shooting up viciously and making his child cower back, eyes wide in terror. It was best, in this instance, to say nothing at all. "Answer me, waif!"

"I'm not a waif! I'm your son!" Aaron screamed in reply, anger flashing into his eyes.

"You're the waste of space and air that your mother died for!" the Duke viciously said.

Aaron looked visibly pained by this. His mouth quivered and he closed his eyes tightly, sniffing. He couldn't stop the tears from coming this time. Mother had died of her illness because the medicine that would have saved her would have hurt the child she was carrying. She didn't want to lose him, so she'd refused it… So she'd died… "I'm sorry," he said brokenly.

"What does her death matter to me? She was nothing more than a prize anyway," the Duke replied.

Aaron was silent. No she wasn't… He'd seen his father's room… The woman had meant everything to him. He'd always spoken lovingly of her and rued the fact he couldn't give her all that she deserved and couldn't save her. Once Aaron had asked his father if he would have preferred that mother was alive rather than him. Father had told him he would do anything to get mother back. Anything except give up his son. He chose his son… He wouldn't choose his son anymore…

"What did you do?" the Duke darkly asked.

Aaron looked up at the man. "Kindness, mercy, forgiveness, pity, honesty, empathy, love, fairness, and equality… _You_ taught me those, father. What do you suspect I did?" he asked.

The Duke was quiet for a long moment. For a brief second Aaron saw a flash of something. Something that had once been so, so familiar… But then there was confusion and then indifference and then anger, and that something he'd seen was gone again. "You have only made their suffering that much worse… And this time you will get to witness it." Aaron paled. "It's time you learned the consequences of your actions, I think." Aaron gasped and turned to try and flee, but the Duke shot across the room swiftly and seized his son violently. "Come here, you!"

"No, no! Dad, please, don't! They didn't do anything! They didn't do it! Father, please! You're angry at _me_ so punish _me_!" Aaron begged. They didn't deserve to suffer because of him, they didn't! The Duke turned a deaf ear on the pleas and marched the boy out, beckoning for guards, and the torturer, to follow him.

Frozen

"What right does that boy have to keep being innocent?!" Hans ranted, pacing in aggravation. "Hasn't he suffered under his father like we suffered under ours? So explain to me how it's even possible that, that… Ugh, just how is it possible? Tell me!"

"Wow, you're actually really worked up over this," Rhun remarked, both mystified and amused at his sibling's behavior.

"What right does he have to…?" Hans began.

"Remain innocent?" Rhun finished for his brother. "Because his father was probably a good man for a long enough time that he managed to inculcate those kind and merciful lessons into his son's heart. If that's so, even when he began to change, at least his kid still had the upright principles he had been taught to hold onto. He kept clinging to them to keep feeling like his father was still there. Besides that, our father was always around. From what I can discern, the Duke of Cumberland probably isolates himself a majority of the time from everyone, up to and including his child. Therefore, the bad influence he became wasn't able to corrupt his boy. Servants raised him more than his father did after the change happened."

"Did I ask you to speak sense?" Hans coldly asked, glaring at his brother and folding his arms.

"You're hating that kid for no good reason at all. You're acting like father," Rhun bit. He yelped as suddenly Hans was across the room, pinning him against the cell walls.

"Never say that again!" the youngest prince immediately snapped.

"Back off!" Rhun shot viciously, roughly shoving his brother back. Hans didn't let go and the two began grappling.

Suddenly the doors to the cellblock were opened. "Father, no! Please! I didn't mean to, I swear. Don't do this! Dad!" they heard the young boy, Aaron, pleading. The brothers froze, sharply looking over. Before they could think to pull away from one another, the Duke was there. He was holding his son's arm in a vicelike grip, the boy obviously in pain. He tried to struggle, but soon gave up with a sob, looking frantically at the two brothers, eyes begging for forgiveness. Did they even want to know what the boy needed to be forgiven for? Well, they supposed it wouldn't matter if they wanted to know or didn't. Whatever it was would happen either way.

The siblings pulled apart, immediately on the defensive. "Take them," the Duke ordered darkly.

"No! No, father, it wasn't them! I did it of my own accord! Hurt me, if you have to hurt anyone! Hurt me!" Aaron begged.

"Shut up!" the Duke viciously barked, violently shaking his son.

"Hey, back off! Let him go!" Hans ordered, immediately on the defensive.

"Take your hands off that boy!" Rhun backed. The cell door was opened and both Hans and Rhun were seized and dragged out. They scowled at the Duke viciously, eyes blazing. Aaron was silently crying.

"Take them to the torture chamber," the Duke commanded.

"Let me go in their place!" Aaron pled once more. He knew his father wouldn't, of course, in fact it was one of the things he clung to when he told himself his father wasn't gone completely, but maybe begging his parent to let him suffer instead would awaken something within the man that would help him get better.

Frozen

Hans and Rhun were dragged into the torture chamber. The door was shut behind them and locked tightly. The brothers looked up and went pale. Glass was being shattered on the ground. A device was being set up that was little more than a rope on a pulley, hanging down low to the ground. "Bind the older to the rope," the Duke commanded. They pulled Rhun roughly to the device and bound his wrists behind his back. Given how pale his brother was, it didn't take much for Hans to guess what they were going to do.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed in horror, unable to stop himself. They would crank that pulley, the rope would be raised up, and… Dammit, they were going to suspend his brother in the air! He would be lifted by his arms. Arms that were tied behind him. Joints were not supposed to move like that… His brother's shoulders would be dislocated, bones might even snap like twigs, tendons would be stretched and ripped, and there they would suspend him in that agonizing position until he was unconscious from the pain!

Rhun looked at the glass in terror. The shards were massive and jagged and ugly looking. Some shards were tiny but numerous, and like blades sticking from the ground. They were going to throw his brother down onto those shards, make him kneel on them. Perhaps add weight to his body to drive the shards deeper and intensify the anguish caused. And while he knelt, they would burn or whip him, one of the two. Would it be worse than what they were going to do to him? He didn't care to know, frankly. At the end of the day it was torture, and it would be agonizing for them both.

Aaron gawked at the scene, looking mortified. Viciously they pulled Hans over to the glass shards and threw him down onto them, forcing him to kneel. He cried out in pain as the shards impaled his calves and knees. They bound his arms behind his back and ensured he stayed upright so that as much pressure as possible was put on said knees. He savagely bit back cries of pain. It helped that he was more horrified at what was happening to his brother. Even as weight was added to him, his eyes remained fixed on Rhun. They were raising him up. It wasn't long before his brother shrieked in pain and continued to cry out in his anguish nonstop. He heard the sickening sounds of dislocating joints. He shuddered when he heard what sounded like a snapping bone. Rhun tried his best not to thrash and struggle, but given the agony he was in, that was more than a little difficult to do. The younger prince sobbed, closing his eyes tightly. It took Hans's all not to beg for mercy to his sibling.

Hans suddenly screamed in pain as more weight was added to him, along with the agonizing sensation of burning. How long had that red hot metal been on him before he'd cried out, he vaguely wondered? The torturer was looking at him in shock, so he assumed his reaction to the sensation had taken longer than expected. A good deal longer. What was this thing they had placed on him?! It felt like a heated plate of armor. They tore it from him and he cried out in pain again, body jerking slightly and driving the glass deeper. He bit back another cry. The heated metal was pressed to him again, this time between his legs on his inner thigh. He screamed in pain, almost falling, but they ensured he stayed up. He writhed desperately, trying to break free.

 _And both princes were full aware how his brother's sobs and screams of pain echoed in his head. So did their own…_

Aaron was weeping and screaming and begging his father to stop to torturer, struggling frantically to break free of the man and help the prisoners. They couldn't really make out his words, too consumed by pain, but there was begging and pleading. Probably nothing that the boy hadn't said before, but it was _all_ he could say at this stage.

"Those men don't deserve your cruelty!" they heard the boy scream desperately at the torturer. Perhaps those words too would have been lost on the brothers, except they were followed by a cry of anguish as they heard something make contact with the child. Something that sounded too much like a fist or a staff for them to ignore. They'd both heard that sound many times before. The boy fell to the ground and was silent.

Rhun, facing that direction, was pale, mouth agape. The child wasn't moving! He saw blood appearing from a wound in the head, inflicted when the torturer's metal rod had connected. The little one wasn't dead, Rhun could have passed out from relief to know that, but it was no less horrible to see.

 _He remembered their father taking such actions again them before… Against **him** … Against his siblings… He remember **he** had done that before too, and felt sick at himself…_

"What the _hell_ did you do to him?!" Rhun heard the Duke furiously shout at the torturer. "I did not give you permission to strike my son!"

"Then you should have silenced him yourself. Be glad you were able to talk me out of putting _him_ through this session rather than the princes," the torturer bit. Rhun saw Hans struggling, freaking out, unable to see the boy and not allowed to turn to look at him. Everything was becoming dark and blurry. He was going to go unconscious from the pain, Rhun realized. For that he was more grateful than he had ever been before… Soon there was nothingness, and he hung limply in the air.

Frozen

Hans watched in terror and pain as his sibling was lowered to the ground. He wanted to cry, but to do so would show weakness they couldn't reveal to the Duke. He couldn't know that maybe, just _maybe_ , they might care for each other more than they'd believed. "Get him off of the glass," the Duke of Cumberland commanded angrily in defiance of the torturer, who now looked sorely put out. Hans felt the weight removed from him and felt himself being pulled off of the glass. Many shards were still buried in his legs and calves. They didn't even try to treat them or remove them. Should they get infected, what did it matter? He was a prisoner of war, not a guest.

Suddenly Hans realize how exhausted and tired he felt. He listlessly looked at the glass. For the first time he noticed how much blood had been drained from him. He felt that much more was still coming. He registered a warm and sticky substance covering his legs and leaking down. The damage was bad, he knew immediately. They turned the weakened prince, and his eyes widened in fear on seeing the young boy lying unconscious on the ground, bleeding from the head. The Duke's eyes were fixed on the child. Was it just him, or did the man seem suddenly paler than what he had seemed before? And that look in his eyes… It was something more than indifference this time. As if the man was trying to remember something or was reliving an event he'd long forgotten the feeling of. It was… Hans's eyes widened slowly. It was the look of a monster becoming a man… He knew that look all too well… He'd seen it many times, now, in himself.

His lips slowly parted. The Duke suddenly was back to indifferent and cold. What had happened to this man? It was almost like… Realization dawned on the young prince, and with it slowly mounting horror. It was almost like mirror was _here_. Either within the man or nearby. He couldn't think long on it now, though. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged back to the cell with his unconscious sibling. The last he saw of the Duke was a moment's hesitation and unease and confusion before the man bent down and picked his young son up in his arms, walking away from the cellblock and muttering an order for a doctor to be sent in for the boy...

Some Days Later

Hans struggled frantically as another bucket of water was poured over the towel covering his head. Rhun watched on, pale and wide-eyed.

 _Breathe, little brother. Keep telling yourself you're not drowning. Keep telling yourself they won't let you. Just breathe. Just breathe! Every moment you get a chance. Oh god, please don't panic._

"Why are you doing this?" Rhun managed to finally breathe.

"Surely you've interrogated before, or been interrogated," the Duke of Cumberland replied.

"He knows nothing! He's ignorant," Rhun said a little more urgently and fast than he probably should have, but it was apparent the Duke's mind was occupied elsewhere. He didn't dare think it was occupied on his son, but maybe? This look of distraction…It was different than the distracted looks the man usually got. The ones mixed with agitation as if he was impatient to get somewhere. This distraction he saw now… It wasn't the same, and so maybe, just maybe, the man's mind was on his son. He wondered when the father had last thought on his boy.

"Everyone knows something," the Duke replied, oblivious to the slip.

"Please. Stop," Rhun pled, taking a ballsy chance. "He. Knows. _Nothing_."

"Do you?" the Duke asked. Rhun was silent. The Duke grunted, but nonetheless waved the torturer off. The man poured one last bucked over Hans and then walked away, leaving him bound to the chair with the soaking wet towel still covering him. Frantically he tried to shake it off and soon succeeded, coughing and choking for air. Rhun breathed a subtle sigh of relief. Hans was shivering. Whether from the cold or the terror or the shock was hard to tell. Perhaps from all of it. Rhun was curious. What was _his_ next torment going to be?

The Duke soon rose and went to the shaking prince. Hans looked at him, fear in his eyes. The shivering intensified. The Duke smirked icily. "Where are your walls now, prince? Where are your masks?" Hans's breathing sped up, pushing panic. Rhun wanted so badly to go to him. Calm him. Soothe him… The Duke severed the bonds and Hans threw himself out of the chair, scrambling desperately away from it. Towards _him_ , Rhun realized. His eyes widened and he willed Hans to get a grip and not blow this. If he scrambled to his big brother for protection, they would be given away. Of course, at this stage Rhun wasn't sure he even _cared_ anymore. He wanted his sibling near and preferably in his arms. If Hans was in his arms, at least he could disillusion himself into believing he could offer some form of protection to his baby brother.

Before Hans could reach Rhun, he was seized by guards again and unceremoniously bound. The Duke waved them away and they were returned, yet again, to their cell. The moment they were alone, Rhun leapt across the way and pulled his brother into a tight and protective embrace. Hans was still shaking. He let out a shuddering breath, pressing himself closer to his brother and squeezing his eyes shut. Rhun tightened his grip silently, resting his head on his sibling's and letting silent tears fall.

Frozen

The Duke stood in his son's room, against the opposite wall of the boy's bed. The child's head was bandaged. He'd been in and out of consciousness for days now. The doctors warned there was probably head trauma. It wasn't unlikely the boy was slipping in and out of a coma, in fact. When he was awake, though, he seemed to function alright. Always he would awaken. Always he would see doctors. Always they would ask a question that he would answer while frantically scanning the room. Then he would see his father, if the man happened to be there, and a calm would pass over him. Shortly after he would go into a coma again.

To put it simply, the Duke was at a total loss. Too many question, too few answers. Had the torturer really struck Aaron that hard? Was his son calmed by his mere presence _despite_ what he'd put him through? A dark thought. Did his son truly not even mind being punished just because it meant that his father would be there? Too many thoughts were racing through his head. He needed to go to the room again. He needed to… to what…? He needed to be near it. The truth was shown in the mirrors, and through the windows he saw the true state of the world. There was nothing redeemable in it. Why fight to find goodness when no goodness existed? He would annihilate the corrupt kingdom, the corrupt enemies. He would erase the evil and ugliness. His son should not be surrounded by evil and ugliness. The boy was corrupted enough as it was. When his son had begun to get corrupted he didn't know. He knew only that it had happened. To save his son, the dark needed to be taken out of him and out of the world. By any means necessary. The more darkness he took out, though, the more seemed to spring up.

The Duke turned and went to the door. His hand reached out and took the knob. "Don't go. Please," he heard his son meekly whimper. He paused a long moment. Soon he looked back at the boy. The young one gazed at him beseechingly, begging with his eyes for daddy to stay… He couldn't stay. He had to go to the room. He had to… he had to go to the room… He harrumphed and turned his back on the boy, opening the door. "Hit me, father, please!" the boy pled suddenly.

Again the Duke froze. This time he was pale. "What?" he asked before he could even think.

"Hit me! Hate me, papa, yell at me, scream at me, hurt me, do _something_!" the boy begged. "Then you'll stay! Then you'll touch me again or hold me!" Even if it was only holding him to hurt him, at least the man would _be_ there. "Beat me. Please."

"You've lost your head, boy," the Duke of Cumberland replied. "And I'm done with you."

"Don't go! Father, don't leave me! No!" Aaron pled frantically. The Duke left the room and gestured for the doctors to go to the boy and help him. He stopped, out of sight of the room but not out of hearing range. Soon the screaming and pleading stopped. Either the child had been sedated or had slipped into a coma. The Duke harrumphed and continued on.

 _Beat me, please… Hurt me. Then you'll stay…_

The Duke sped up his pace. Part of him wanted to go back, wanted to be there… But it was a very small part, and the moment he entered the room, that part was buried away. The Duke stood basking in the light spilling through the windows, and gazing at the mirrors all around.

Frozen

Hans watched in silent agony as his brother was stripped naked, bound between two posts, and drenched in icy water. The night was so cold that he could see his breath. They were going to freeze his sibling. Rather, they were going to put him so near the freezing mark that it was very possible Rhun would end up hypothermic. They wouldn't let him die, the Duke of Cumberland wanted them alive, but oh how his sibling would suffer… Sure enough, it wasn't long before he could see his brother violently shaking. It wasn't long before he could see frost had caked Rudi's hair and skin. It wasn't long before the other had collapsed, held standing only by the ropes binding him.

"He would make a lovely ice decoration for the garden," the torturer nonchalantly remarked to the Duke and Hans both. "Don't you agree? Perhaps we should go through to death this time." Briefly Hans wondered if the Duke had even ordered this, or if it was just for the torturer's pleasure.

"Do to him whatever you want. I couldn't care _less_. At least he'll be out of my cell and out of my hair," Hans answered, forcing himself to don the mask of indifference and hatred again. It was what would save his brother now, if anything did.

"You're lying to me," the torturer said.

"You're right. I am. Oh no, now I suppose there's no chance at all you'll spare him. Rhun, I'm so sorry. At least, though, the dogs will make good use of your corpse," Hans said.

The torturer gave him a look that was somehow both amused and annoyed. The man shook his head hopelessly then turned back to the sight with a chuckle. "He's suffering. Oh how he's suffering," the torturer remarked.

"Now whip him," Hans said. "It'll wake him up again." The torturer laughed coldly but ordered no such thing.

Hans looked upwards from his position bound at the thus-far-silent Duke's feet. He scanned the palace quietly, appraising it. His gaze stopped on seeing a balcony outside of a room. On that balcony stood the Duke's little one. He wasn't sure this would work, but… "Your son is up. Here I'd believed you'd killed him."

The Duke turned his head, looking towards his boy's room. He pursed his lips tightly. The child was looking at Rhun wretchedly, obviously longing to go down to him and help him. Over his dead body. He would not have his heir fraternizing with the enemy. They would only corrupt Aaron farther. He turned attention back to Rhun. "Cut the prince loose and return his half-frozen body to his cell along with prince Hans!" The torturer scowled darkly at the Duke as if angered by the command.

"Yes sir!" the soldiers replied, quickly moving to obey. The Duke rose and headed back inside, ignoring the fuming torturer.

Frozen

"How much more can he put us through?" Rhun hoarsely asked.

Hans looked up from the pendant he'd been gazing at. Rhun hadn't really woken up for almost twenty-four hours now. The breaking of the silence was surprising, to say the least. Hans blinked then leaned his head back against the wall. "Don't tempt fate," he replied. There had been many a nasty device he'd spotted in that godforsaken chamber that had yet to be used on them. The torturer was far from done. He vaguely wondered how much of an influence the man's suggestions had on what was done to them. He also wondered just how constant a presence he was in the Duke's life. Every day a new torture session, every day a flogging… They were weak, both of them. The amount of weight they'd lost during their imprisonment… It was frightening, to say the least, and muscle was deteriorating, or starting to. Long ago they had lost their healthy glow. If anything, their faces seemed almost sunken. Hans looked down at his torso. You could see ribs now. He darkly and bitterly chuckled. Closing his eyes tightly, he leaned his head back. Weren't _they_ in a sorry state, now? Humph.

"I want to go home," Rhun said.

"So do I," Hans replied. He was silent a moment. "Her last letter… Come back. That was all it said. Come back… I'm afraid for her… She seemed so alone, so afraid, so… She was scared… Scared and depressed and feeling crushed, and I… I couldn't write her back. I couldn't reply. I couldn't be there… Goddammit, it's been six _months_ …"

"And it will be longer still… We will never be free again, Hans. We will die in captivity. Resign yourself to that and get it over with," Rhun replied.

"I'm not accepting that," Hans said. "And you damn well better not accept it either."

"Half a year… Before you can blink it will be one, then two, then five, then ten, and soon you will lose all concept of time. Before you know it you will be middle aged… Maybe when finally the boy takes his father's place we will be free again… By then, though, she will be gone… She will wait for no man, remember? You'll return to nothing. Nothing but your brothers, and who's to say even all of them will still be alive when you get home?" Rhun muttered. He grimaced, rubbing his shoulders that still ached from when they'd suspended him. Serious damage had been done, he knew. Not as serious as it could have been, but serious enough. He had trouble lifting things with as much ease anymore. He hoped it would heal, at least a little more, but if it didn't he wouldn't be surprised.

"We," Hans corrected.

"No… You… I'll die here, you know," Rhun remarked.

"Will you?" Hans asked.

"If I'm still here after five years, I'm taking my own life," Rhun deadpanned.

"You have a wife. You have _children_ ," Hans said. "You need to return to them, no matter how long it takes."

"She will be gone then…" Rhun whispered.

"I doubt it highly. And even if she is, you will still be your children's father," Hans said. "They wait for you. Don't let them wait so long only to find out you're gone."

Rhun was silent. "Talk to me about Elsa," he soon said.

Pain filled Hans's eyes before he quickly buried it. "Why?" he asked.

Rhun gave his brother an incredulous look. "Because for better or worse, she has become your longing," he answered.

"You're delusional. Go back to sleep," Hans said, rolling over so his back was to his brother. A silent signal they were done talking.

Rhun watched Hans for a long moment. "I'm sorry… That she's lost to you," he soon said.

"Shut up… It's not like I ever had her in the first place. Or _wanted_ her, for that matter," Hans replied.

"It's not 'in the first place' anymore, brother," Rhun replied.

"Is there some part of shut up you don't get?!" Hans snapped. Rhun shook his head and sighed, laying back down and closing his eyes. It was best for them both if they just slept now anyway. If they didn't watch it, they'd start biting one another's heads off.

Frozen

Aaron sat in his room listlessly whittling. This time a carving of him and his father. The boat had been finished some time ago now. It was beautiful. Maybe he would give it to the young Admiral they had in captivity. If he could smuggle it there, it would be a welcome change for the brothers. He would even give his carving of the Vitruvian Man to Rhun. He paused, looking at his craftsmanship so far. Father as he once was, gently embracing him now. Loving him. Being a dad. Tears burned the boy's eyes again and he quickly shoved the carving under his pillow and buried his face in his knees. He wanted his father so, so badly…

The door opened and he sniffed, looking up. His eyes widened in hope. Father was there. "Dad…" he began.

"Get together your essentials. Quickly. Be ready to move castles at a moment's notice," the Duke said.

"Why?" Aaron questioned uneasily.

"Just in case the battle turns against us. The enemy has unveiled a secret weapon. The Snow Queen of Arendelle," the Duke said. The boy's eyes widened in wonder. Rumors had been spread of the mysterious snow queen. It was said it was the princes of the Southern Isles who had given her that title, and that she had been their enemy and then their ally. But her nation was neutral, wasn't it? Of course, one woman wasn't her nation. She was here for a reason. He didn't know why, but maybe the prisoners did? He decided he would have to see. For now he nodded to his father and hurried to gather together all of his essentials and a few things extra, just in case.


	10. The Daisy and the Nightingale

The Daisy and The Nightingale

(A/N: You get a bonus of two H.C. Andersen stories in this chapter, and one of his poems. The paragraph of the letter that begins with 'You have become my thinking's single thought' is actually a poem of his. Not sure from where, though. Enjoy. I believe the next chapter goes even further into Elsa's actions in this battle.)

Half a year had passed, from the day Elsa arrived on the battle field. Three months, maybe four, ago, the Duke of Weselton returned to his land at the insistence of the other rulers, who took note of his age and in so many words had told the indignant Duke to live out his golden years in peace. He probably would have continued protesting, but Elsa had told him of Anna and how she'd left her and how worried she was for her sister. The Duke had relented and returned the next day. Erik and Francis had been left behind, put in charge of things on the front in the Duke's stead. They were acting as the Generals for Weselton now. It was a 'promotion' both would have rather done without.

Elsa's help had proven invaluable. Massive ground had been covered. The first time the Snow Queen had sent forth a blizzard and shown herself within it, the men of Cumberland and their allies had fled in panic. They had returned, of course, but much more cautious, and with Elsa's added help, the fighting was at a stalemate. Ice golems stormed across the battlefield, freezing or taking out whoever crossed them. Cumberland brought out fire and flame. The golems never lasted long in the summer heat, and survived an even shorter time against the fire, but the amount of time they were mobile was enough to do massive damage.

She stood on the precipice of a hill, looking towards the horizon in the direction it was believed the Duke's palace was. Key word, 'believed'. Her arms were folded around her and pain reflected plainly in her eyes. They must be so _close_ , and yet it still seemed beyond reach. One wrong turn could set them back weeks, one wrong piece of information could see them march the opposite way. "We should make it in two days' time, if we keep up this pace," Duach gravely said to her, coming up alongside the queen.

"Considering we're even going the right direction," she murmured quietly.

Duach was silent. After a moment, he said, "We owe you everything, Elsa."

"Don't thank me yet. Not until they're safe again," Elsa replied.

Duach looked towards the horizon, pain in his eyes. "I can't do this much longer… They're my brothers. One is my _twin_. With Rudi gone… It's like half of my heart has been ripped out of my chest and stomped on," he said.

"You'll see them again, Runo," Elsa promised.

"I know… But they'll never be the same…" he murmured.

"What do you mean?" Elsa asked. She knew she had asked before, but she could still hardly bring herself to believe it.

"Torture doesn't exactly bode well for one's mental health," Duach deadpanned. "You will not know them, when they return… Well, you will, but part of them will be so foreign… God knows how long it will take them to adapt to things again." The nightmares would never leave, he sensed.

"Hey, Chameleon prince. And it seems to me Hans isn't the only one who can be a chameleon," Elsa replied, smiling softly. Duach chuckled, smirking weakly. Perhaps she was right, in part. They would never be the same, no, but they would still be _them_. Mostly. Albeit warped versions. But then they'd always been warped, every one of them. He inwardly sighed. Of course, that kind of warped wasn't the type he meant now, but still. It was hope where there _was_ none, and he would take it.

"I've gone over it in my head so many times… What I was going to tell Rudi's family… I had it all worked out and when I went to them… I just spoke. I said nothing that I had rehearsed, just spoke. I keep asking myself if I could have done it more gently. If I'd practice my speech more, would I have been able to give them hope instead of anguish? And Hans… There is no one waiting for him… Only us… Moren wrote to Edvard Collin, Carl Alexander, and Harald Scharff, but besides them? Nothing. No wife is waiting and praying for his safe return. No child is asking about their missing father. That should make it easier, shouldn't it? But it doesn't. It only makes it harder… He hasn't even had a chance to live… Perhaps he never will now… Goddammit, he's only a baby…"

Elsa was quiet, looking into the distance. "I hate war," she soon murmured.

"Then why are you here?" Duach asked.

Confusion flooded Elsa's eyes as she held her arms tightly around herself. "I don't know," she finally replied.

"Try again," Duach deadpanned.

Elsa looked down. "There is no wife praying for his safe return… But there are eleven brothers and four friends, counting Kristoff, who are. And… and there _is_ a woman praying for him… That woman is me, and I'm through waiting," she said.

"And if we should fail?" Duach asked. Elsa was quiet.

 _I will wait for no man… I will wait for no… no man…_

"I don't know," she finally admitted. But they were so close now. They _couldn't_ fail at this stage, they _couldn't_! …But what if they did…? No. She wasn't entertaining that thought. Not now. It would come to be. All of it. They would save the prisoners. _All_ of them.

Frozen

Aaron slipped down silently into the prison yet again. He'd been slipping down here more and more often over the last couple of months, and chatting to the two prisoners, befriending them. Today he was bringing the model ship and the Vitruvian Man. He hoped the princes liked them. He moved to the bars and peered inside. The brothers were both there, doing their own thing. "Hans, Rhun?" Aaron said.

The princes looked quickly over and rose, going to the cell door and peering out. "Aaron? Already?" Rhun asked. "You're off schedule a bit."

"I know, but I really, really wanted to show you these things!" Aaron said. "Oh, I brought you food and water. Here." He slipped the morsels inside. Instantly Hans and Rhun seized and devoured them hungrily. At least since the boy's sneaky excursions they'd been getting a meal a day, if nothing else. Albeit a small meal. "I made you presents," Aaron proudly said to them.

"Presents?" Hans asked.

"Yes. I carved them myself. Here Hans, this is for you," Aaron replied, bringing out the boat.

Hans's eyes widened in shock. "Aaron, that's beautiful! The detail in this is incredible. You made it by _yourself_?" he asked.

"Papa taught me how when I was little. I've honed the skill since," Aaron replied. "This is for you, Rhun." He brought out the Vitruvian Man and gave it to Rhun.

"Oh wow, the Vitruvian Man!" Rhun exclaimed.

"The what?" Hans asked.

Rhun frowned at him, unimpressed. "It's supposedly the perfect aesthetic; a unique phenomenon and hard to even describe in words. In fact near impossible to. It can only be described by itself, or in math or by sight or step by step. Who taught you about the Vitruvian Man, Aaron?" Rhun questioned. Aaron gave him a dubious look. "Right. Your father. Of course."

"Thank you, Aaron. They're beautiful," Hans said.

"Yes, thank you," Rhun agreed.

Aaron grinned at them, then looked nervously around. "I should go before dad misses me," he said.

"Wait Aaron. I need you to do me a favor," Hans said.

"A favor?" Aaron asked.

"I need you to deliver something for me. A message," Hans said. "Please. It's more important than you know. If you can, get me paper and a quill as quickly as possible."

"Why?" Aaron asked.

"There's someone back home that I need to reach," Hans replied. "It's best if you don't press for details." Mainly because he didn't know them himself.

"I'll do what I can. And try and deliver it or send it too!" Aaron exclaimed. He deflated slightly. "But… I'll only be able to deliver something for you once, and I'll be lucky if I even get away with _that_."

"Once is all I'll need. Thank you. So much," Hans replied. "You're a good boy."

"Excellent, in fact, and brilliant," Rhun added, admiring the craftsmanship.

"Thank you," Aaron said, puffing up slightly. Quickly he hurried off. Hans smiled gently and affectionately after him.

"You've warmed up to him a good deal," Rhun remarked.

"You know? I have," Hans answered, shaking his head. He was surprised himself, but he liked that boy quite a lot. And felt very, very protective of him. He decided, then, that he would do whatever it took to keep that kid safe. Aaron deserved no less. His father had better smarten up, though, or he swore to god… Never mind. _He wasn't even sure where he was going with that thought. Somewhere painful and best not thought on, probably. He returned to his bench and sat, immediately planning out how to respond to Elsa's letter. He hoped it wasn't too late._

Frozen

 _Dearest Elsa,_

 _By now you know of my fate and what has befallen us. I am sorry. Sorry that I can no longer be there, no longer write to you, no longer speak to you. I do not believe I will ever be able to again. We will die here, Rhun and I, and so as agonizing as it is to write these words, this will be the last letter you ever receive from me. In it I will say all I dare to say, confess all that I dare to confess, and I know in my heart that even then I will not have said everything that I long to. I do not have the courage or the understanding. I hardly know my own thoughts or heart anymore. Forgive me._

 _Nightingale and Snow Queen, everything I am is because of you, and everything I will ever be. You became my redeemer, my friend and confidant, my reason for being. You became the reason I began to fight again, the reason the masks one by one began to fall. You are the reason that I finally have clarity again…_

 _I am still a stranger to myself, I know. I have not yet even thrown all of my masks to the side. I still do not see or understand the man I am. I cannot remember him clearly. Though pieces are coming back, in no small part because of you, I still have trouble seeing beyond the monster; but now… now I know that there is still something of the man left. Now I know why I fight so hard to find myself again. It is for your sake, and for your love and forgiveness and mercy. It is for the second chance you gave me, and all the chances after and yet to come. It is for the fact you did not give up searching._

 _For all you did, for all you have done, thank you._ _ **Everything**_ _I am now is because of you. Everything I ever had a chance to be again centers on you. Can I even repeat those phrases enough times? Do you remember the day I told you that once upon a time I would have married you? I do not want it to be 'once upon a time' anymore. I told you, then, that once upon a time I could have loved you. There is no more once upon a time. I love you. More than you will ever know. Perhaps it is not a romantic love, I hardly know anymore, I cannot tell or understand it; but it is not the love of a friend with which I love you either. It is so much more._

 _You have become my thinking's single thought, my heart's first love: it had no love before. I love you as no love on earth is wrought, I love you now and love you evermore._

 _Never give up, my lady queen. Your life will be a beautiful one, and even if I cannot be there in person or even in letters, I will remain always. I vowed to you I would fight with you to my last breath. I will fight with you even beyond that. Do not be afraid anymore. I am here. I will always be here, even if I am not. You gave me my life back, and now I will give you yours. With this letter I send a ring, for remembrance of me. With this letter I send the last two tales I will ever write. One is called 'The Daisy' the other is called 'The Nightingale'. One is a tale from which you must draw hope, though it is sad, and find in it the desire to fight. The other… It is a thank you I can never put into words. It is a tale to show you how dear and important you have become to me. It is a love letter of a most unusual sort. It is you and I and all I languish for yet know I will never have._

 _Farewell forever, Queen Elsa of Arendelle. You will be alright. Thank you._

 _For Eternity,_

 _Admiral Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles_

THE DAISY

 _Now listen! In the country, close by the high road, stood a farmhouse; perhaps you have passed by and seen it yourself. There was a little flower garden with painted wooden palings in front of it; close by was a ditch, on its fresh green bank grew a little daisy; the sun shone as warmly and brightly upon it as on the magnificent garden flowers, and therefore it thrived well. One morning it had quite opened, and its little snow-white petals stood round the yellow centre, like the rays of the sun. It did not mind that nobody saw it in the grass, and that it was a poor despised flower; on the contrary, it was quite happy, and turned towards the sun, looing upward and listening to the song of the lark high up in the air._

 _The little daisy was as happy as if the day had been a great holiday, but it was only Monday. All the children were at school, and while they were sitting on the forms and learning their lessons, it sat on its thin green stalk and learnt from the sun and from its surroundings how kind God is, and it rejoiced that the song of the little lark expressed so sweetly and distinctly its own feelings. With a sort of reverence the daisy looked up to the bird that could fly and sing, but it did not feel envious. "I can see and hear," it thought; "the sun shines upon me, and the forest kisses me. How rich I am!"_

 _In the garden close by grew many large and magnificent flowers, and, strange to say, the less fragrance they had the haughtier and prouder they were. The peonies puffed themselves up in order to be larger than the roses, but size is not everything! The tulips had the finest colours, and they knew it well, too, for they were standing bolt upright like candles, that one might see them the better. In their pride they did not see the little daisy, which looked over to them and thought, "How rich and beautiful they are! I am sure the pretty bird will fly down and call upon tem. Thank God, that I stand so near and can at least see all the splendour." And while the daisy was still thinking, the lark came flying down, crying "Tweet," but not to the peonies and tulips-no, into the grass to the poor daisy. Its joy was so great that it did not know what to think. The little bird hopped round it and sang, "How beautifully soft the grass is, and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and silver dress is growing here." The yellow centre in the daisy did indeed look like gold, while the little petals shone s brightly as silver._

 _How happy the daisy was! No one has the least idea. The bird kissed it with its beak, sang to it, and then rose again up to the blue sky. It was certainly more than a quarter of an hour before the daisy recovered its senses. Half ashamed, yet glad at heart, it looked over to the other flowers in the garden; surely they had witnessed its pleasure and the honour that had been done to it; they understood its joy. But the tulips stood more stiffly than ever, their faces were pointed and red, because they were vexed. The peonies were sulky; it was well that they could not speak, otherwise they would have given the daisy a good lecture. The little flower could very well see that they were ill at ease, and pitied them sincerely._

 _Shortly after this a girl came into the garden, with a large sharp knife. She went to the tulips and began cutting them off, one after another. "Ugh!" sighed the daisy, "that is terrible; now they are done for."_

 _The girl carried the tulips away. The daisy was glad that it was outside, and only a small flower-it felt very grateful. At sunset it folded its petals, and fell asleep, and dreamt al night of the sun and the little bird._

 _On the following morning, when the flower once more stretched forth its tender petals, like little arms, towards the air and light, the daisy recognised the bird's voice, but what it sang sounded so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad, for it had been caught and put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of the happy days when it could merrily fly about, of fresh green corn in the fields, and of the time when it could soar almost up to the clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The little daisy would have liked so much to help it, but what could be done? Indeed, that was very difficult for such a small flower to find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was, how warmly the sun was shining, and how splendidly white its own petals were. It could only think of the poor captive bird, for which it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of the garden; one of them had a large sharp knife, like that with which the girl had cut the tulips. They came straight towards the little daisy, which could not understand what they wanted._

 _"Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark," said one of the boys, and began to cut out a square round the daisy, so that it remained in the centre of the grass._

 _"Pluck the flower off," said the other boy, and the daisy trembled for fear, for to be pulled off meant death to it; and it wished so much to live, as it was to go with the square of the turf into the poor captive lark's cage._

 _"No let it stay," said the other boy, "it looks so pretty."_

 _And so it stayed, and was brought into the lark's cage. The poor bird was lamenting its lost liberty, and beating its wings against the wires; and the little daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word, much as it would have liked to do so. So the forenoon passed._

 _"I have no water," said the captive lark, "they have all gone out, and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine, the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created." And it thrust its beak into the piece of grass, to refresh itself a little. Then it noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed it with its beak and said: "You must also fade in here, poor little flower. You and the piece of grass are all they have given me tin exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside. Each little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of your white petals a fragrant flower. Alas! You only remind me of what I have lost."_

 _"I wish I could console the poor lark," thought the daisy. It could not move one of its leaves, but the fragrance of its delicate petals streamed forth, and was much stronger than such flowers usually have: the bird noticed it, although it was dying with thirst, and in its pain tore up the green blades of grass, but did not touch the flower._

 _The evening came, and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water; it opened its beautiful wings, and fluttered about in its anguish; a faint and mournful "Tweet, tweet," was all it could utter, then it bent its little head towards the flower, and its heart broke for want and longing. The flower could not, as on the previous evening, fold up its petals and sleep; it dropped sorrowfully. The boys only came the next morning; when they saw the dead bird, they began to cry bitterly, dug a nice grave for it, and adorned it with flowers. The bird's body was placed in a pretty red box; they wished to bury it with royal honours. While it was alive and sang they forgot it, and let it suffer want in the cage; now, they cried over it and covered it with flowers. The piece of turf, with the little daisy in it, was thrown out on the dusty highway. Nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much for the bird and had so greatly desired to comfort it..._

 _\- Hans Christian Andersen_

 _P.S_

 _The daisy is me, the lark you. The flowers are, or were, the suitors, the cage represents your duties as reigning monarch, your prison of the throne. The turf is my prison in the Duke of Cumberland's dungeons. The first kiss the bird gave was the first true kiss you gave to me, the night before my brothers and I left Arendelle and the courting games to return to the Southern Isles and take part in an unwinnable war. The water the lark so longed for was freedom from the chains of the throne. The anguish it felt is the anguish you suffer now as you try to fight your war alone again. The burial is what I fear is in store for you should you give in. The fate of the flower is the fate I know will become mine should you die. A plea for you not to give up lest that doom befall us both. A reassurance that in some way I am still there and will still help you fight._

THE NIGHTINGALE

 _In China, you know, the emperor is a Chinese, and all those about I'm are Chinamen also. The story I am going to tell you happened a great many years ago, so it is well to hear it now before it is forgotten. The emperor's palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain, and very costly, but so delicate and brittle that whoever touched it was obliged to be careful. In the garden could be seen the most singular flowers, with pretty silver bells ties to them, which tinkled so that every one who passed could not help noticing the flowers. Indeed, everything in the emperor's garden was remarkable, and it extended so far that the gardener himself did not know where it ended. Those who travelled beyond its limits knew that there was a noble forest, with lofty trees, sloping down to the deep blue sea, and the great ships sailed under the shadow of its branches. In one of these trees lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully that even the poor fishermen, who had so many other things to do, would stop and listen. Sometimes, when they went at night to spread their nets, they would hear her sing, and say, "Oh, is not that beautiful?" But when they returned to their fishing, they forgot the bird until the next night. Then they would hear it again, and exclaim, "Oh, how beautiful is the nightingale's song!"_

 _Travellers from every country in the world came to the city of the emperor, which they admired very much, as well as the palace and gardens; but when they heard the nightingale, they all declared it to be the best of all. And the travellers, on their return home, related what they had seen; and learned men wrote books, containing descriptions of the town, the palace, and the gardens; but they did not forget the nightingale, which was really the greatest wonder. And those who could write poetry composed beautiful verses about the nightingale, who lived in a forest near the deep sea. The books travelled all over the world, and some of them came into the hands of the emperor; and he sat in his golden chair, and, as he read, he nodded his approval every moment, for it pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city, his palace, and his gardens. But when he came to the words, 'the nightingale is the most beautiful of all,' he exclaimed, "What is this? I know nothing of any nightingale. Is there such a bird in my empire? And even in my garden? I have never heard of it. Something, it appears, may be learnt from books."_

 _Then he called one of his lords-in-waiting, who was so high-bred, that when any in an inferior rank to himself spoke to him, or asked him a question, he would answer, "Pooh," which means nothing._

 _"There is a very wonderful bird mentioned here, called a nightingale," said the emperor. "They say it is the best thing in my large kingdom. Why have I not been told of it?"_

 _"I have never heard the name," replied the cavalier; "she has not been presented at court."_

 _"It is my pleasure that she shall appear this evening," said the emperor. "The whole world knows what I possess better than I do myself."_

 _"I have never heard of her," said the cavalier; "yet I will endeavor to find her."_

 _But where was the nightingale to be found? The nobleman went up stairs and down, through halls and passages; yet none of those whom he met had heard of the bird. So he returned to the emperor, and said that it must be a fable, invented by those who had written the book. "Your imperial majesty," said he, "cannot believe everything contained in books; sometimes they are only fiction, or what is called the black art."_

 _"But the book in which I have read this account," said the emperor, "was sent to me by the great and mighty emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot contain a falsehood. I will hear the nightingale, she must be here this evening; she has my highest favor; and if she does not come, the whole court shall be trampled upon after supper is ended."_

 _"Tsing-pe!" cried the lord-in-waiting, and again he ran up and down stairs, through all the halls and corridors; and half the court ran wit him, for the did not like the idea of being trampled upon. There was a great inquiry about this wonderful nightingale, whom all the world knew, but who was unknown to the court._

 _At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, "Oh, yes, I know the nightingale quite well; indeed, she can sing. Every evening I have permission to take home to my poor sick mother the scraps from the table; she lives down by the sea-shore, and as I come back I feel tired, and I sit down in the wood to rest, and listen to the nightingale's song. Then the tears come into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me."_

 _"Little maiden," said the lord-in-waiting, "I will obtain for you constant employment in the kitchen, and you shall have permission to see the emperor dine, if you will lead us to the nightingale; for she is invited for this evening to the palace." So she went into the wood where the nightingale sang, and half the court followed her. As they went along, a cow began lowing._

 _"Oh," said a young courtier, "now we have found her; what wonderful power for such a small creature, I have certainly heard it before."_

 _"No, that is only a cow lowing," said the little girl; "We are a long way from the place yet."_

 _Then some frogs began to croak in the marsh. "Beautiful," said the young courtier again. "Now I hear it, tinkling like little church bells."_

 _"No, those are frogs," said the little maiden; "but I think we shall soon hear her now." And presently, the nightingale began to sing. "Hark, hark! There she is," said the girl, "and there she sits," she added, pointing to a little gray bird who was perched on a bough._

 _"Is it possible?" said the lord-in-waiting. "I never imagined it would be a little, plain, simple thing like that. She has certainly changed color at seeing so many grand people around her."_

 _"Little nightingale," cried the girl, raising her voice, "Our most gracious emperor wishes you to sing before him."_

 _"With the greatest pleasure," said the nightingale, and began to sing most delightfully._

 _"It sounds like tiny glass bells," said the lord-in-waiting, "and see how her little throat works. It is surprising that we have never heard this before; she will be a great success at court."_

 _"Shall I sing once more before the emperor?" asked the nightingale, who thought he was present._

 _"My excellent little nightingale," said the courtier, "I have the great pleasure of inviting you to a court festival this evening, where you will gain imperial favor by your charming song."_

 _"My song sounds best in the green wood," said the bird; but still she came willingly when she heard the emperor's wish._

 _The palace was elegantly decorated for the occasion. The walls and floors of porcelain glittered in the light of a thousand lamps. Beautiful flowers, round which little bells wee tied, stood in the corridors: what with the running to and fro and the draught, these bells tinkled so loudly that no one could speak to be heard. In the centre of the great hall, a golden perch had been fixed for the nightingale to sit on. The whole court was present, and the little kitchen maid had received permission to stand by the door. She was not installed as a real court cook. All were in full dress, and every eye was turned to the little gray bird when the emperor nodded to her to begin. The nightingale sang so sweetly that the tears came into the emperor's eyes, and then rolled down his cheeks, as her song became still more touching and went to everyone's heart. The emperor was so delighted that he declared the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round her neck, but she declined the honor with thanks: she had been sufficiently rewarded already. "I have seen tears in than emperor's eyes," she said. "That is my richest reward. An emperor's tears have wonderful power, and are quite sufficient honor for me." And then she sang again more enchantingly than ever._

 _"That singing is a lovely gift," said the ladies of the court to each other; and then they took water in their mouths to make tem utter the gurgling sounds of the nightingale when they spoke to anyone, so that they might fancy themselves nightingales. And the footmen and chambermaids also expressed their satisfaction, which is saying a great deal, for they are very difficult to please. In fact, the nightingale's visit was most successful. She was now to remain at court, to have her own cage, with liberty to go out twice a day, and once during the night. Twelve servants were appointed to attend her on these occasions, who each held her by a silken string fastened to her leg. There was certainly not much pleasure in this kind of flying._

 _The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met, one said "nightin," and the other said "gale," and they understood what was meant, for nothing else was talked of. Eleven peddlers' children were named after her, but not one of them could sing a note._

 _One day the emperor received a large packet on which was written **The Nightingale**. "Here is no doubt a new book about our celebrated bird," said the emperor. But instead of a book, it was a work of art contained in a casket, an artificial nightingale made to look like a living one, and covered all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphire. As soon as the artificial bird was wound up, it could sing like the real one, and could move its tail up and down, which sparkled with silver and gold. Round its neck hung a piece of ribbon, on which was written "The Emperor of Japan's nightingale is poor compared with that of the Emperor of China's."_

 _"This is very beautiful," exclaimed all who saw it, and he who had brought the artificial bird received the title of "Imperial nightingale-bringer-in-chief."_

 _"Now they must sing together," said the court. "And what a duet it will be." But they did not get on well, for the real nightingale sang in its own natural way, but the artificial bird sang only waltzes._

 _"That is not a fault," said the music-master. "It is quite perfect to my taste." So then it had to sing alone, and was as successful as the real bird; besides, it was so much prettier to look at, for it sparkled like bracelets and breast-pins. Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without being tired; the people would gladly have heard it again, but the emperor said the living nightingale ought to sing something. But where was she? No one had noticed her when she flew out at the open window, back to her own green woods._

 _"What strange conduct," said the emperor, when her flight had been discovered; and all the courtiers blamed her, and said she was a very ungrateful creature._

 _"But we have the best bird after all," said one, and then they would have the bird sing again, although it was the thirty-fourth time they had listened to the same piece, and even then they had not learnt it, for it was rather difficult. But the music-master praised the bird in the highest degree, and even assented that it was better than a real nightingale, not only in its dress and the beautiful diamonds, but also in its musical power. "For you must perceive, my chief lord and emperor, that with a real nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung, but with this bird everything is settled. It can be opened and explained, so that people may understand how the waltzes are formed, and why one note follows upon another."_

 _"This is exactly what we think," they all replied, and then the music-master received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following Sunday, and the emperor commanded that they should be present to hear it sing. When they heard it they were like people intoxicated; however, it must have been with drinking tea, which is quite a Chinese custom. They all said "Oh!" and held up their forefingers and nodded, but a poor fisherman, who had heard the real nightingale, said, "It sounds prettily enough, and the melodies are all alike; yet there seems something wanting, I cannot exactly tell what."_

 _And after this the real nightingale was banished from the empire, and the artificial bird placed on a silk cushion close to the emperor's bed. The present s of gold and precious stones which had been received with it were round the bird, and it was now advanced to the title of "Little Imperial Toilet Singer," and to the rank of No. 1 on the left hand; for the emperor considered the left side, on which the heart lies, as the most noble, and the heart of an emperor is in the same place as that of other people._

 _The music-master wrote a work, in twenty-five volumes, about the artificial bird, which was very learned and very long, and full of the most difficult Chinese word; yet all the people said they had read it, and understood it, for fear of being thought stupid and having their bodies trampled upon._

 _So a year passed, and the emperor, the court, and all the other Chinese knew every little turn in the artificial bird's song; and for that same reason it pleased them better. They could sing with the bird, which they often did. The street-boys sang, "Zi-zi-zi, cluck, cluck, cluck," and the emperor himself could sing it also. It was really most amusing._

 _One evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird sounded "whizz." Then a spring cracked. "Whir-r-r-r" went all the wheels, running round, and then the music stopped. The emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and called for his physician; but what could he do? Then they sent for a watchmaker; and, after a great deal of talking and examination, the bird was put into something like order; but he said that it must be used very carefully, as the barrels were worn,, and it would be impossible to put in new ones without injuring the music. Now there was great sorrow, as the bird could only be allowed to play once a year; and even that was dangerous for the works inside it. Then the music-master made a little speech, full of hard words, and declared that the bird was as good as ever; and of course no one contradicted him._

 _Five years passed, and then a real grief came upon the land. The Chinese really were fond of their emperor, and he now lay so till that he was not expected to live. Already a new emperor had been chosen and the people who stood in the street asked the lord-in-waiting how the old emperor was; but he only said, "Pooh!" and shook his head._

 _Cold and pale lay the emperor in his royal bed; the whole court thought he was dead, and everyone ran away to pay homage to his successor. The chamberlains went out to have a talk on the matter, and the ladies' maids invited company to take coffee. Cloth had been laid down on the halls and passages, so that not a footstep should be heard, and all was silent and still. But the emperor was not yet dead, although he lay white and stiff on his gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains and heavy gold tassels._

 _A window stood open, and the moon shone in upon the emperor and the artificial bird. The poor emperor, finding he could scarcely breathe with a strange weight on his chest, opened his eye, and saw Death sitting there. He had put on the emperor's golden crown, and held in one hand his sword of state, and in the other his beautiful banner. All around the bed and peeping through the long velvet curtains , were a number of strange heads, some very ugly, and others lovely and gentle-looking. These were the emperor's good and bad deeds, which stared him in the face now. Death sat at his heart._

 _"Do you remember this? Do you recollect that?" they asked one after another, thus bringing to his remembrance circumstances that made the perspiration stand on his brow._

 _"I know nothing about it," said the emperor. "Music! Music!" he cried; "The large Chinese-drum! That I may not hear what they say!" But they still went on, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. "Music! Music!" shouted the emperor. "You little precious golden bird, sing, pray sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper round your neck. Sing! Sing!" But the bird remained silent. There was no one to wind it up, and therefore it could not sing a note._

 _Death continued to stare at the emperor with his cold, hollow eyes, and the room was fearfully still. Suddenly there came through the open window the sound of sweet music. Outside, on the bough of a tree, sat the living nightingale. She had heard of the emperor's illness, and was therefore come to sing to him of hope and trust. And as she sang, the shadows grew paler and paler; the blood in the emperor's veins flowed more rapidly, and gave life to his weak limbs; and even Death himself listened and said, "Go on, little nightingale, go on."_

 _"Then will you give me the beautiful golden sword and that rich banner? And will you give me the emperor's crown?" said the bird._

 _So Death gave up each of these treasures for a song; and the nightingale continued her singing. She sung of the quiet churchyard, where the white roses grow, where the elder-tree wafts its perfume on the breeze, and the fresh, sweet grass is moistened by the mourners' tears. Then Death longed to go and see his garden, and floated out through the window in the form of a cold, white mist._

 _Thanks, thanks, you heavenly little bird. I know you well. I banished you from my kingdom once, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed, and banished Death from my heart, with your sweet song. How can I reward you?"_

 _"You have already rewarded me," said the nightingale. "I shall never forget that I drew tears from your eyes the first time I sang to you. These are the jewels that rejoice a singer's heart. But now sleep, and grow strong and well again. I will sing to you again."_

 _"And as she sung, the emperor fell into a sweet sleep; and how mild and refreshing that slumber was! When he awoke, strengthened and restored, the sun shone brightly through the window; but not one of his servants had returned - they all believed he was dead; only the nightingale still sat beside him, and sang._

 _"You must always remain with me," said the emperor. "You shall sing only when it pleases you; and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces."_

 _"No; do not do that," replied the nightingale; "the bird did very well as long as it could. Keep it here still. I cannot live in the palace, and build my nest; but let me come when I like. I will sit on a bough outside your window, in the evening, and sing to you, so that you may be happy, and have thoughts full of joy. I will sing to you of those who are happy, and those who suffer; of the good and the evil, who are hidden around you. The little singing bird flies far from you and your court to the home of the fisherman, and the peasant's cot. I love your heart better than your crown; and yet something holy lingers round that also. I will come, I will sing to you; but you must promise me one thing."_

 _"Everything," said the emperor, who, having dressed himself in his imperial robes, stood with the hand that held the heavy golden sword pressed to his heart._

 _"I only ask one thing," she replied. "Let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be best to conceal it." So saying, the nightingale flew away._

 _The servants now came in to look after the dead emperor; when, lo! There he stood, and, to their astonishment, said, "Good morning."_

 _P.S_

 _There are so many different meanings to this story, so many that have been, that may yet come to be. One day, should I make it out of this nightmare alive, I sill hear what you took from it, and I will explain to you all that I meant and all that I thought as I wrote. Take heart, Queen of Arendelle, and may you always live your life in freedom, and may you always hold onto hope and happiness and love._

 _Goodbye, Elsa._


	11. Messenger

Messenger

The young messenger slipped carefully towards the enemy camp. Over and over he reassured himself that they didn't know who he was. As long as they didn't know who he was, as far as they were concerned he was only a child. But what if they suspected he was a spy and wanted to interrogate him? No, he couldn't think that way. Besides, Hans had told him that if he ran into trouble that he should just say he was bringing a message to Queen Elsa from Prince Hans. Rhun has reassured him he'd be fine and told him to dress like a peasant, then they'd sent him on his way.

He drew a deep breath, nearing the encampment. Wow. Their enemies were close… For once he was glad his father had locked himself away in the mirror room. He wouldn't come out for probably four days, and that was as long as it would take Aaron to get to the enemy camp then back home. He examined their position and was torn between relief and disappointment. It seemed they were heading the wrong way to reach the palace. He was relieved because it meant war wouldn't come to his doorstep any time soon, and his father wouldn't be in danger. He was disappointed because it meant the princes had that much longer to suffer. He took another breath then boldly walked towards it. There was heavy guard outside of one elaborate and feminine tent that looked like it was made of ice. Aaron wondered if maybe that was where the Snow Queen resided. Three of the five guards outside all looked, from here, like Hans and Rhun, so maybe they were more of their brothers? They had said there were thirteen of them in total. If they were the brothers of the prisoners, he would have to be extra careful, otherwise he would be sent back to his father in pieces. They saw him now. He tensed up, stopping.

"You there, boy, who are you?!" one of the men, who seemed like a sailor, sharply demanded.

"I-I-I'm no one," Aaron replied. "I was just told to bring a message to Queen Elsa of Arendelle."

"By who?" a second man suspiciously questioned.

"By… by Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," Aaron replied.

The reaction was immediate. He cried out in alarm as he was seized and thrown violently up against a tree. "Who are you?!" a third man demanded in outrage. "Answer us!" Aaron caught his breath as he felt a blade pressed against his throat.

"How did you come to cross paths with our brother?" the second who had spoken questioned in a hollow and eerie tone. He wasn't being violent like the other two, but he _was_ the one that gave him the biggest creep vibes.

"I… He was… They were being publicly tortured," the boy muttered quietly.

"Oh god," the angry man, who he now saw looked similar to Rhun, said in a gasp, visibly shaken by those words.

"I-I was nearby when-when they went to the older brother. The younger one saw me and slipped me the papers and told me to bring them to Elsa. He-he said he only wished he had been able to write his siblings too, but he couldn't. I slipped away with the papers quickly because they were about to return to him," Aaron semi-lied.

He was released. The five men were eerily silent. Aaron almost didn't want to breathe, watching them apprehensively. "Go in to her," the a fourth man, who probably wasn't one of the siblings but maybe a friend of theirs, finally said. Aaron nodded quickly and headed inside. The one giving off scary vibes followed him.

"Erik, Francis, watch the perimeter," the one who looked like a sailor said to the fourth and fifth man who probably weren't related to them.

"Yes sir," the fifth man, he assumed Francis, replied. He and Erik quickly moved off to watch, in case the boy had been followed.

Frozen

Elsa was laying on her bed, sleeping fitfully. Nightmares plagued her. She had spared many lives, she knew, on both sides, and yet still this place and this war haunted her. She wanted to go home, but she wouldn't leave. Not now. Not without them… Not without _him_ … She could see his face in her dreams, and all of his masks... They then took on a material shape. A masquerade mask he wore, that changed color and shape and design along with the changing light as he moved towards her through the room, as he took her hands in his, as he swept her into some sort of ethereal dance. It was almost hypnotising… In the chameleon mask there was a fire blazing…

"Qu-Queen Elsa?" a voice asked, breaking into her dreams.

The image faded and Elsa frowned in her sleep. She began to wake up and soon her eyes flickered curiously. She blinked blankly on seeing a boy there, Mael standing closely behind him. Confused, Elsa sat up. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Just a messenger," the boy replied. "I… I've brought you a letter."

"From who?" Elsa asked, totally mystified at this point.

"From Admiral Westergaard," the boy answered.

Elsa's eyes flew open and she practically dove for the papers, snatching them from the child and looking at them in disbelief and longing. "How did you get these?" she asked tensely. "When?!"

"Only three days ago," the boy answered. "The very next day I came here to try and find you."

"Now answer the how," Mael said to the boy.

"I… He gave them to me," the boy said.

"Thank you. For bringing them," Elsa murmured absently. "Mael, get him food, please."

"I will get him food and send him on his way. He is of the enemy's land. He will not be welcome among us. Frankly, he's fortunate no one else found him first," Mael stated bluntly. "I fear if he doesn't go quickly, none of the rest of us will be able to hold back from him either. His people have our brothers."

"He's a child!" Elsa shot sharply, giving Mael an icy glare.

"And if Hans were here, that fact might actually matter to someone," Mael deadpanned. He led the now frightened boy out of the tent quickly. The sooner he was on his way the better. For _all_ of them.

Elsa watched after Mael, shaking her head, then turned to the letter. Opening it, a ring fell out. She caught her breath and gently picked it up, holding it to the light. She had seen the young prince wear this, on the rare occasions his hands were not concealed by gloves. It was beautiful in its simplicity… On it was engraved the word, 'Eternity'. Her heart sped up. Both pain and hope reflected in her eyes. She slipped the Prince's ring onto her finger. Her wedding finger. Why, she wondered, had she seen fit to place it there of all places? She went to move it to her right hand but paused. Finally she lowered her hand, deciding not to move it, and turned attention to the papers. She was almost afraid to read them. Shakily she let out a breath then unfolded the letter, drinking in the words he had written as if it meant life and death. Before she had reached the end, the young queen had begun to sob.

Frozen

She wasn't seen for three days after the letter came. No one was allowed to come in, and she never went out. The camp was as silent as a churchyard, and no one dared question where the Snow Queen had gone or what had happened. She emerged, on the third day, when the men were sitting around fires and eating their dinner. A hush fell over the camp as she appeared, all eyes going to her. Her gaze was steeled and harsh and cold. She looked over the soldiers and Generals and officers, and allies. Her eyes fell on the princes of the Southern Isles and stayed.

"Be ready to move out at a moment's notice. With luck, by the end of this month the palace will fall, and your brothers will be safe again," Elsa said simply. With that she turned once more, entering her tent and leaving behind the shocked princes and their men. The princes exchanged looks. Whatever had been in that letter had effected Elsa powerfully. They intended to find out what it was. Mael rose and went towards the tent. Of them all, he was the one she was most likely to open up to.

Elsa went to the ice pigeon who sat preening. Gently she picked it up in her hands. It looked at her, cooing. She smiled gently at it. "Little bird, I need you to do something for me. I know I have no message to give you, but nonetheless you have to fly to him, to the Prince. Fly there directly. Stop only when you lose sight of me. Guide me to him, please, so that I can then guide the others. Without you Hans and Rhun are doomed. We have to find them. It means life and death. Surely you feel how urgent this is," she said to it. It tilted its head at her then cooed, taking off into the sky and flying in a direction totally different from where they were going. Elsa breathed a sigh. Now she had to follow. Quickly she conjured up a cloak of ice and summoned her ice mare outside of her tent. She turned to leave said tent and go to it, only to catch her breath on seeing Mael standing there. "Lars," she said in surprise.

Mael summed her up silently, then looked after the ice pigeon. "So this is your plan, then? Find him then return and lead us? My lady, do you even know the danger you put yourself in out there?" he asked.

"I know," she answered.

"What brings this on?" Mael asked. Elsa looked to the letter, laying on her table. He followed her gaze and went to it. She didn't protest. Silently he read through. She saw tears shining in his eyes. She watched one slip down his cheek.

"Lars?" she questioned gently.

Mael was silent. "Let us come with you," he finally said.

"No," Elsa replied. "It's too dangerous for all of you. You can't be spared, you're the only decent doctor here. Jürgen and Duach are the backbone of this whole fight, and the leaders most turned to for guidance."

"The allies will get along without us when we're gone, but Hans and Rudi... They are our brothers, Elsa," Mael said.

Elsa was quiet, watching the pigeon that was now circling, waiting for her. "I have to go," she said. "Alone."

Mael was quiet. "I will watch out for you," he soon answered.

"It drains too much strength from you," Elsa protested.

"If you don't let us come, then I have to compromise somehow," Mael answered.

Elsa shifted uneasily, not liking this, but soon relented with a sigh. "Very well… But only once every day and only very briefly. Five seconds at most, ten if something critical is going on. Promise me no more than that, and I'll agree."

"Very well," Mael answered. "I promise."

"Thank you, brother… Don't fear for me. I'll be okay," Elsa promised in turn. Mael bowed to her. She curtseyed back then ran from her tent, drawing up the hood of her cloak. Running to her horse, she nimbly mounted it and galloped away after the ice pigeon. With her she brought only the ring and the two stories he had sent with his final message.

Frozen

Mael returned silently to his brothers, bringing with him Hans's last letter. He found them gathered quietly. Jürgen was glaring icily out the window. Duach's fists were balled in front of his mouth and his eyes were shut tightly. "She has gone to find them," Mael said.

"We know. We see," Jürgen answered. "The boy has gone after her."

"What?" Mael asked, vaguely surprised at this.

"It's good that he did… Had he been here much longer, I would have cut off his head and sent it back to his father in a wooden box, along with his heart," Jürgen darkly stated.

"His father?" Mael asked, confused.

"He was the Duke of Cumberland's son. I couldn't tell, in the dark, but the moment he stepped into the light… I had seen that man closer than I'd ever wanted to, when he took our brothers from us. There was no mistaking whose child the boy was," Jürgen stated.

Mael looked out the window and sure enough saw the boy riding after Elsa. "Should we stop him?" Lars questioned.

"No. He couldn't do anything against Elsa if he tried anyway," Jürgen replied.

Mael was quiet. Soon he went to a table and lay the letter down. The other two looked at it curiously. "Is that from Hans?" Runo hopefully questioned.

"It is… But it isn't a happy message," Mael answered. The other two were silent. Soon they went to it and began reading through, tears threatening their eyes as they did.

Frozen

Elsa rode swiftly after the pigeon. She wasn't sure how many days this journey would take, but she didn't intend to rest until she absolutely needed to. She wanted to cover as much ground as possible. She took mental note of landmarks and the like so that she could lead the armies of the Southern Isles and its allies here again. Considering she failed to do what she had _really_ set out to. She heard a whinny from behind and frowned, slowing her ice mare down. Anne-Marie snorted in derision, annoyed at being reigned in. She patted her neck gently and turned curiously. Had the brothers followed after all? She started on seeing who it was. The messenger, the boy who had come to them. He was galloping after her. She debated whether or not to wait for him. Soon she determined that he would be a useful guide. Better two than one, after all. That way, if she lost the pigeon, he could guide her to where it might be.

As he neared, he slowed down his horse. "Young boy, why did you come after me?" Elsa questioned.

"I live there," he replied as if it were obvious. Which, admittedly, it was, but that wasn't the point, and she knew it wasn't the full reason. She frowned warningly at him, not liking the sarcastic and surly lilt that had slipped into his voice. He tensed up under the gaze then glanced ashamedly away, blushing and muttering, "I came because if I'd stayed, the Princes would have killed me."

"Why?" Elsa questioned confusedly. She knew, of course, they weren't above such a thing, it was what she hated most about them, but she couldn't see them murdering a child if there was nothing to be gained from it. There was no reason to kill this boy, was there?

The boy shifted uneasily, obviously unsure about telling her or not. Finally he sighed. What was there to lose anymore anyway, after all? Well, besides his life… "They would have killed me because I am the only son of the man who took their brothers from them." Elsa's eyes widened. This was the Duke of Cumberland's _son_?! Knowing _that_ , it was a miracle the child had gotten out of that camp alive. He probably hadn't eaten or had anything to drink, she realized, unless it was on the sly; which had probably been wise on his part.

"You're his son…" she repeated half to herself and half to him. The boy said nothing, swallowing fearfully but holding his ground. He was afraid, she realized. Afraid that she would finish the job the princes had definitely wanted to start. Her gaze softened slightly. "You don't need to be afraid," she said to him. He looked up at her. "How really did you get the message from Hans?"

"I… I sometimes sneak down and visit them in their cell. I bring them food and water, and sometimes just talk to them. Prince Hans spared my life, you know," the young one said.

"You're the boy he spared," Elsa realized. The one whose death Rhun had advocated for. Apparently Rudi was singing a different tune now. The child nodded. "What's your name?" Elsa questioned, starting to ride again, this time at a trot while the boy rode beside her.

"Aaron," the boy answered.

"Aaron," she repeated to herself, committing it to memory. "Then you know the way to your father's palace."

"I know the bird is leading you the long way there," Aaron answered. "I will separate from you soon enough and take a shortcut."

"Let me follow," Elsa said.

"No. Follow the bird. It's leading you the long way, but also the safest way," Aaron replied. "Patrols swarm the shortcuts, but no one really thinks to put much attention on the long route."

"I can handle any patrol," Elsa answered.

"Face to face, I know. I've heard stories about you. Hans and Rhun always mention you and your sister, Hans especially. Plus I hear rumors from the battle. They say you can take on whole battalions, but that won't matter if a sharpshooter gets you from behind. The mountain way is littered with them. They hide in every nook and cranny. You can't attack what you don't know is there.

Elsa looked at him in slight wonder. "You speak very wisely for such a young child," she said.

"I'm not a child!" he protested. "I'm thirteen now."

"You're a baby," Elsa teased, smirking. He looked at her angrily, put out, then sighed. Okay, so maybe she was right, but still!

"I'm a teenager," he stubbornly insisted. "And you're old, so there!"

Elsa started, immediately offended. "Old?!" she demanded sharply.

"Yeah, old," Aaron replied. She angrily glared at him then sighed, rolling her eyes. Alright, she'd let it go. She probably deserved that, after all.

Frozen

For a time they rode in silence. "Are you going to save them?" Aaron suddenly asked. "By yourself, I mean?"

Elsa was silent a moment, looking upwards. Finally she turned to him. "I am," she confirmed, which was more than she would have ever admitted to the princes of the Southern Isles. If she had, they would have followed her no matter her protests.

"They may capture you," Aaron worriedly said.

"I'm not afraid," Elsa replied.

"You should be. The torturer is an evil and cruel and sadistic man," Aaron quietly murmured. God knew Hans and Rhun were suffering under his hand, when father wasn't there to regulate.

Elsa nodded. "The princes… how are they?" she asked. She had almost asked 'are they well', but that was an answer she knew already. No, they _weren't_ well. Who knew if they would ever be well again? She had to know of their conditions, though.

"They're…living," Aaron answered, trying to explain it gently without going into too much detail.

"Is that all they're doing?" Elsa asked.

Aaron was quiet. "For a while it was," he finally replied. "Before I started to go down to them regularly. Now they're still just living, but I think they're daring to hope a little bit more. And they will hope all the more when I let them know you're coming."

"No, don't let them know. That way, in case I fail, it won't be so difficult for them. I don't want to give them that hope only to have it ripped from them," Elsa said. "It could be the breaking point."

Aaron nodded in understanding. "At least I will prepare them for your arrival. They haven't really genuinely bathed for half a year, after all. Or shaved," he said with a chuckle.

Elsa giggled softly, smirking. "Yes, it's probably best you do that. Otherwise they may not even come out should I be victorious," she said. Aaron laughed and grinned at her. "Tell me, can the youngest one even grow a beard?" she teased.

"I think one tries to grow, but it ends up patchy and looks funny," Aaron replied, smiling. It annoys him to no end and I sometimes hear him grumble about it to his brother before I reach their cell. His brother has the hairy gene. He has a beard now, albeit a short one. Sometimes I hear Rhun taunt Hans. He says Hans isn't a real man because he can't grow a beard, and calls him a pretty boy, girly man, and feminine. He calls him patches sometimes too, and then I hear them start to scuffle, but they stop when I call out."

"It's probably good you go down to see them, otherwise they would have killed each other by now," Elsa remarked, laughing.

"Yeah. Hans once told Rhun he'd rather be a pretty boy than a hermit, and that nearly escalated into a fight too, but I stopped it again," Aaron said.

"Those two will be the death of one another," Elsa said with a sigh.

"That's a good thing right now. It's why father and the torturer haven't put them through as much brutality as they otherwise would have gotten. They believe the two torment one another well enough," Aaron said.

"Oh, they probably do, just not in the way your father and the torturer suspect," Elsa said.

Aaron nodded and looked around the area. "I separate from you within the hour, Snow Queen," he said.

"You'll be alright?" Elsa asked.

"Yes," Aaron answered. "I know the way home." He looked at her curiously, frowning. "Why are you so determined to save them?" he questioned.

Elsa was silent. "Because I care about them," she finally answered.

Aaron nodded and looked at her hand. "Are you Hans's wife?" he asked.

She sharply reigned her horse in, stopping it abruptly. Her eyes were wide in shock and she looked at him sharply. "His what?!" she asked.

"His wife," Aaron repeated.

"Wh-what makes you think that?" Elsa asked.

Aaron shrugged. "I don't know. He talks about you all the time, and you're wearing a ring on your wedding finger, and he wanted the letter to go to you. If you aren't his wife, are you his fiancée?" he asked.

She looked at the ring then quickly slipped a pair of gloves over her hands. "I-I'm neither," she answered. "Just… just a friend. I wore the ring on that finger because it's the one it fits on." Which was a lie, it also fit on her right ring finger, but she wasn't about to admit that.

Aaron looked dubious, but he didn't press. He looked around again. "This is where I leave you," he said to her. "Keep following the bird. It'll guide you safely to the palace, or near it. Meanwhile, I'll prepare the princes for your arrival so they actually feel good about showing themselves. They do have quite a streak of vanity in them."

"Oh believe me I know," Elsa dryly deadpanned. "The worst part about it is they have the looks and skills to back up their boasts, so they sometimes really rub it in. One of my bigger annoyances with them, but what can I say? They're a good looking brood. Even Duach, who isn't exactly the handsomest one of them, can give a good many men a run for their money. Vanity and pride seem to be two of their most constant traits. Every single one of them has it. If nothing else told you they were brothers, those two things alone would reveal it."

Aaron smiled. "I wish you luck, Queen Elsa," he said, bowing to her.

"Thank you, Aaron. Be careful, alright?" she said, bowing her head to him.

"I will. You too! Bye," he said, turning his horse and riding off quickly. Elsa watched after him, smiling affectionately. He was a good boy, she decided. Her smile fell. She was glad she was the one launching this attack. She didn't know what would happen to him if others had come. Uneasily she looked back. What if others _were_ coming? If Aaron had followed her so easily and quickly, who was to say the soldiers and princes wouldn't track her down too? She grimaced, shifting uneasily, then turned her horse and galloped again. With luck, if there were any pursuers she would lose them quickly enough.


	12. Why Do You Fight?

Why Do You Fight?

(A/N: Sicker than a dog, so didn't have the energy to fully edit this, but hopefully I got most of the errors. Enjoy.)

Aaron made his way down to the princes. The torturer was in town for the day, father was locked in the mirror room, and there was nothing anymore that could hinder him from going to them and doing this. Behind him four servants followed, obviously highly uneasy but nonetheless bound to follow the Duke's son. Two held a washbasin between them, a third held various grooming essentials, the fourth held another smaller bucket of water.

"Fiddling with your beard again, Patches?" Rhun was heard saying. Aaron inwardly smirked.

"You know what, Rhun, why don't you shove it up your…" Hans began.

"Look at this scraggly mess," Rhun heckled, cutting him off.

"Ow! Hey," Hans shot.

"Although I _will_ say you could have quite the goatee or patch if you had a mind to," Rhun said. "Your chin, at least, grows enough hair to make something of."

"The last thing I'd do is copy you in any way shape or form!" Hans snapped.

"I do tend a fine goatee, don't I? Oh baby brother, are you jealous?" Rhun purred.

"Don't make me scoff," Hans replied. "Beards are unclean, messy, unkempt, you get things stuck in them…"

"You just wish you could grow a mane like Franz's and tend it as well," Rhun cut off again.

"Rudi!" Hans shouted angrily.

Oh boy, soon they'd come to blows. "Hans, Rhun?!" Aaron called out before they could. Both men stopped, though muttering could be heard on Hans's part. Aaron couldn't help but smile a bit. He reached the cell and unlocked it, hoping the brothers wouldn't try to make a break for it. They were unarmed, so it wasn't like they'd get far after all. As much as he would have liked to see them free, he knew they wouldn't be if they attempted to run like this. They'd be dead. He peered cautiously inside and could practically see them both trying to figure out a plan to take this opportunity. It was apparent they were getting a lot of ideas. It was also apparent, though, that most all of them involved using him as some sort of leverage, and neither seemed inclined to do so. They were fond of him, he knew, so using him as a meat shield or threatening him weren't very appealing to them. "I brought you something special today," Aaron said.

"What is it?" Hans asked, curious.

"Freedom?" Rhun bluntly questioned, not expecting good news on that front.

"No. Look," Aaron replied. He gestured for the servants to step forward, and they did so. The princes' eyes bugged wide. No way. The washbasin was set down, and the bucket of water, and the toiletries. After a stunned moment of nothing, both siblings dove for the tub at the same time, plunging into the water and seizing soap.

"May you be blessed all of your days you angelic child!" Rhun exclaimed, fighting for the bar with Hans. Apparently they weren't going to be talking anymore beyond that, so Aaron left the cell with the servants.

"Give me the soap, dammit!" Hans ordered.

"Go shave your beard, patches! The bath is mine!" Rhun snapped back, audibly shoving his sibling away.

"Rhun!" Hans yelled. Aaron cringed. Hopefully they didn't end up killing each other over this. The questions and thanks, he knew, would come when he returned, but he'd give them a couple of hours. He looked around the cells and decided that he would do the same for as many of the prisoners they had as he could. Quickly he set off to tend that task, the servants following behind him.

Frozen

Hans relished in the feel of being clean again, pouring the water slowly over himself. No words could express how glad he and Rhun were right about now. He rinsed the soap out of his hair and off of his body. He was kind of glad, at this point, that Rhun had won the fight for the tub first. Now _he_ could take his time. Rhun was shaving and tending his goatee while brushing his teeth. Soon he finished and immediately started on his hair, cutting it quickly to the length he liked it, then putting it back into a ponytail again. Hans finished bathing and rubbed his now clean shaven skin. He'd tended everything else while Rhun was bathing. He had a small ponytail now, at the back of his neck. That would go soon enough, but he hadn't dared get it shorter in case he mess up, and the _last_ person he was trusting to do his hair was Rhun.

He went back to the toiletries and brushed his teeth again just for the sake of doing it. After a moment he finished and rinsed. "It occurs to me this is dangerous for Aaron," he remarked.

"How so?" Rhun asked.

"Think," Hans deadpanned.

Rhun froze, catching on. There would be no hiding their groomed states from the Duke or torturer. It might even fall back on their heads as well as the boy's. Dammit. He sighed in frustration. "Well, if they shave us bald at least by the time we're out of this place it'll all have grown back." Though bamboo shoots under the fingernails… He shuddered at the thought of that. "Why did he do this, do you think?" Rhun questioned.

"I'm not sure. He's coming back soon. We'll have to ask him then," Hans replied, just as confused.

Their cell was knocked on and they looked over. "Sirs, are you finished?" Aaron's voice questioned from outside.

"We are, Aaron, come on," Rhun answered.

Aaron unlocked the door, again cautiously, and the servants entered to remove everything. Aaron started at the change. "Whoa," he said. One or two of the servants actually seemed to swoon at the sight, suddenly much more interested in these two prisoners. Rhun shot one of them a smile dashing enough that she audibly sighed.

"You're married, bro, cool it," Hans warned, frowning at his sibling. Rhun gave him an annoyed look and shrugged. The servants left, leaving Aaron with the princes. "Why did you do this for us?" Hans asked.

"Because no one is there to stop me," Aaron replied. "Father is in the room, and the torturer is in town, but he's coming back soon so I have to go in a minute."

"Your father is in his room?" Rhun asked. That wasn't exactly what he'd call being gone.

"No, in _the_ room," Aaron said. "The Mirror Room."

Hans and Rhun visibly tensed. "Mirror Room? What mirror room?" Hans immediately demanded.

Aaron looked puzzled. "It's just a room. It's very large. It has two stained glass windows that came with the mirrors as a present for father long ago," he said. "The mirrors and windows all were all made from one piece of the same thing. It's like a giant piece of glass just broke one day and they picked up the shattered pieces and made them mirrors and windows," he said.

"You don't think…" Rhun began.

"I do," Hans darkly stated.

"What's going on?" Aaron asked.

"It's nothing, Aaron. It's a matter of our concern, not yours," Hans replied. Actually, it was very _much_ the boy's concern, but if they told him then Aaron might try something stupid like shattering or stealing the mirrors and windows to save his father. If he tried that, either his father would kill him in a fit of rage, or the boy would be corrupted too. Aaron looked unconvinced, but he didn't press. Hans was glad for that. "Now seriously, why the sudden spa day?" Spa day. Hah! As if. But it was something, at least.

"I can't tell you. It's a surprise," Aaron replied.

"Surprises aren't exactly appropriate in our position, kid," Rhun said.

"This one will be," Aaron answered. "I have to go now. I'll see you later." Quickly he left, closing the cell behind him and locking it. Now it was a matter of waiting. Soon enough the Snow Queen would come.

Frozen

Aaron made his way to the balcony. He had been summoned there by his father. He saw the man standing on it alone and took a breath, approaching the man. "Father, why did you call me?" Aaron asked. Surely the man hadn't figured things out yet.

The Duke was silent, looking into the distance. Aaron followed his gaze and his eyes widened. A snowstorm was approaching the palace rapidly. His eyes bugged wide. Elsa was there! "The Snow Queen comes," the Duke said. "Get in your room, lock the doors and windows, take cover in your closet, and don't come out." Aaron looked at his father. Was that actual care he had heard, or was he only disillusioning himself?

"What are you going to do?" Aaron asked.

"Put an end to her campaign with finality," the Duke answered darkly. He turned to the torturer. "Carr, take the boy back to his room." Aaron tensed and looked fearfully over at the torturer he hadn't noticed until now. The man was sitting in the shadows of the balcony. Aaron shuddered. He didn't like to be near the man. He didn't trust him. Carr scared him. The torturer gave the child an icy smirk and rose. Aaron drew closer to his father, into his side. The Duke of Cumberland looked down at him in annoyance.

"Papa, please don't make me go with him," Aaron pled, eyeing the torturer warily. The Duke was silent and the boy's heart sank. His father would send him anyway, he knew. He always did. Imagine his shock, then, when instead his father put his arm over his shoulders almost protectively and turned from the balcony, leading the boy away. He didn't leave the torturer behind, Carr was still there and now looking annoyed, but there was nothing he could do about it, and the Duke accompanied them to Aaron's room. It was such a small thing, hardly a sign of anything, but Aaron felt like he was on cloud nine. He looked up at his sire gratefully.

The Duke released his son, when Aaron was in his room, gave him a sword, then walked out without so much as a glance back or a goodbye; but he took Carr with him so Aaron could have cheered. He locked his door and locked his windows, then went into his closet and made himself comfortable, shutting it behind him.

Frozen

Elsa shot through the Cumberland soldiers now converging on her at the Duke's orders. Each one was giving a battle cry, and the sounds of a fight could be heard throughout the palace. In the dungeons things were dead silent. The prisoners of war held their breath, all of them, hoping this meant the princes had come for their brothers and for them. Hans and Rhun were silent and grim faced. This was why Aaron had brought them the grooming things, then. Because they were going to be freed. Maybe. "If they hurt that boy…" Hans began. He trailed off and shook his head. If they hurt Aaron, there would be hell to pay. He wouldn't even give a damn if it was one of his brothers who hurt the child. They would pay regardless.

"They won't," Rhun assured, though he didn't honestly believe that himself. "They will take him prisoner, maybe, after his father is killed."

"If they do, I'm talking Moren into letting him be my servant," Hans deadpanned. He wouldn't trust a single one of his other brothers to treat that boy properly.

"Getting paternal, Hans?" Rhun teased.

"I'm not old enough to be that kid's father," Hans deadpanned.

"You're not too far off," Rhun said, shrugging. "I've heard of children as young as twelve, girls and boys both, having children. Babies having babies. How stupid is that?"

"I'm not _even_ twelve years older than him," Hans said. Just eleven years. Yeah… That wasn't the point!

"You're getting paternal," Rhun teased, smirking.

"Bite me," Hans replied. "It's not like you're not feeling that way too." And Rhun _was_ old enough to be the kid's father—albeit a pretty young father—so there.

Frozen

Elsa pushed through the crowds of Cumberland soldiers, driving them back with her snowstorm and ice walls and ice golems. The Duke of Cumberland watched in mortified disbelief as this woman, this _single_ person, was decimating his army. What madness was this? He took respite in the fact she was killing no one, though apparently freezing them in casings of ice wasn't beneath her. "I'm going down there," the Duke said.

"My lord, you will end up dead," Carr replied, though there was a distinct lack of concern in the torturer's voice.

"Then I end up dead! Prepare to evacuate the prisoners and my son to another place," the Duke ordered.

"I will take _very_ good care of the young master," the torturer darkly replied, smirking evilly. Goodness knew for how long he'd wanted that boy in his hands. He liked 'playing' with children. He liked hearing them squeal as he applied his methods to them. He liked feeling them squirm, seeing them break, smelling the blood... They tasted better than adults anyway. Much more tender.

Carr had always relished in pain and suffering. The eating had first started when he was child. In his defense, it wouldn't have happened if his sister had just given him the toy, but no. So things had to get messy. The Duke knew nothing of his… darker practices, and he'd prefer it stay that way, so until the man was dead, he would practice no torture on his heir. Unless the Duke was out of town. He did consider, however, killing the boy... Of course he would do nothing to to the little one's body aside from maybe mangling it and breaking it. Then he could blame it on the two imprisoned princes. There would be no boundaries the Duke kept him from crossing then. It would be free-for-all. As tempting as that thought was, though, he decided that he would keep the child alive for a while longer. Barely alive. Drag out the suffering. As the Duke ran down to join the battle, Carr turned and went towards Aaron's room.

Frozen

Elsa threw up an ice shield as an arrow nearly struck her, then another as a barrage of bullets came. This was getting dicey. She was surrounded now, and crouched into a battle pose like she had been when the Duke of Weselton's men, and Hans and the soldiers, had come for her in her ice palace so long ago. Her eyes darted everywhere, took in everything they possibly could. She heard something behind her and threw up another ice barrier that shattered but had at least stopped whatever it was that had been coming at her. She immediately pushed out the ice walls, forcing her assailers back. She ran towards the palace again, having made herself an opening.

The Duke looked out a window and saw this. His eyes widened in disbelief. Who was this woman and what was she after that she would face an army alone? Wait… The princes. His eyes darkened and he changed his plans, storming down towards the dungeons and giving orders to guards to be ready to burn the whole prison down, along with all those locked in it. If this was going to be the Queen's victory, she would at least pay for it. He threw open the dungeon doors and marched towards the cell belonging to the princes of the Southern Isles, four soldiers at his back. He threw open their prison. "Seize them! Bring them to the nearest balcony," he commanded. Hans and Rhun, totally taken aback, hardly even had time to react before they were seized none too gently.

The Duke led the way to the balcony and threw open the doors. The guards thrust the two brothers to the railing. Hans cried out, almost going over, but Rhun moved instinctively, catching his brother and pulling him back up. He could have cursed himself for that slip up, but the Duke either didn't notice or was too incensed to care. "What are you…" Rhun began.

"Turn around!" the Duke ordered them at gunpoint. They looked at the weapon in disbelief but obediently turned, looking down. When they did their eyes widened and their mouths dropped in stunned shock. A snowstorm, a solitary woman… Elsa!

"Oh my god!" Hans exclaimed, covering his mouth. Was she out of her mind?! What the hell was she thinking? She couldn't take on a whole army! Yet here she was, doing just that. _Why_ was she? When had she come? What was even happening?! Oh god… He could hardly breathe.

"Elsa…" Rhun said weakly. This was _not_ good.

"Whose woman is that?" the Duke darkly questioned, for no mere ally would dare take on insurmountable odds like these for the sake of a mere allegiance, oh no… But maybe, just maybe, she would take them on for love… "Whose woman has come here?!" he angrily yelled at the princes again.

Rhun, breathing shakily, turned to the man, eyes narrowed, and answered, "Her own."

The Duke hardly heard, his eyes fixed on Hans. The expression on the boy's face… It was all he needed to see to know his answer. The young man was clutching something around his neck. The Duke, enraged, reached out and viciously spun the prince, pulling his hand away. He looked at the pendant hanging from the boy's neck, looked at the shock in his expression, and scowled darkly. Violently he struck the young man with his staff, knocking him to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Hans!" Rhun exclaimed, trying to move to his sibling's side.

The Duke darkly, murderously, looked to the older brother. "So you do care after all," he muttered dangerously. "Good. Then this will be well worth it." The tone in the man's voice… Rhun could have shot himself for his slipup. There would be no more covering anymore.

Hans, panting for breath, slowly rose, head screaming in protest and ears ringing. Dammit, that had been a bad strike. He felt suddenly very dizzy and let himself collapse again before trying to rise once more. The Duke beckoned a guard forward. "Behead him and mount it on a pike," he ordered, gesturing to Hans. "She has come for _him_ , but she will leave with only a body."

"No, don't!" Rhun pled as the guard approached, drawing his sword. Hans didn't move to try and get away. "Hans, run! Hans! My Lord Duke, please, I beg you! Don't hurt him!" Rhun continued to beg as he struggled to break free. The guard raised the sword above his head, preparing to bring it down. Hans glanced over suddenly and rolled, tripping the man. He cried out in alarm, falling to the grond and dropping his blade. Hans leapt at it, grabbing it up and swinging at the guards holding Rhun. One cried out in pain as the blade connected, releasing the other prince and staggering back, clutching his wound. Rhun moved, grabbing that one's blade from its sheath and turning it on the other, who let him go and leapt back before Rhun could impale him. Immediately Rhun and Hans made a break for it.

The Duke watched darkly after them. "Get up," he ordered his shaken and shocked, as well as frightened, men. He entered his palace again. It was time to go down to the battle field. The princes would not get away. "Burn the dungeons." If nothing else, it would be a distraction. The Queen would choose to save many over two, he knew. That might be all the time it took to swing things in Cumberland's favor again.

Frozen

The two brothers raced nimbly through the palace, cutting down whoever dared to try and stop them. They were so close to freedom, so close to going home! Rhun caught the arm of one guard, who had been going for a killing blow, and ran him through, throwing him onto the ground. Hans leapt forward with a spin, both dodging the man's attack and attacking for himself. Easily he cut down the one that had come too close. "One of your more graceful moves, I'll admit. Beautifully executed," Rhun praised. It was both a defensive and offensive move that Hans had honed long ago. None of the rest of them had quite figured out how to pull it off even _half_ as gracefully.

"Keep moving. Praise me later," Hans replied, smirking. They ran again through the palace, fighting to find their way out.

All at once the torturer stepped from a hallway, dragging with him Aaron who was whimpering, badly bruised and cut up. Both brothers froze, eyes widening in shock and horror. "Oh god," Rhun breathed.

"What did you do to him?!" Hans demanded. Aaron was barely standing on his own. All that was holding him up was the torturer. The boy looked borderline unconscious. He whimpered, weakly opening his eyes and looking at the brothers pleadingly.

"Now that I have your attention, you would do well to put down your weapons and return to your cells," the torturer replied, drawing a rusty, jagged, and disturbingly dull looking dagger, holding it to the boy's throat.

Neither prince moved. Rhun scanned the area, searching for some sort of distraction. His eyes fell on an oil lamp. That could work. They smelled smoke from elsewhere and tensed up. That was coming from the dungeons… Oh _god_! They were going to burn the prisoners, their men, alive! That was it. They weren't playing this game anymore. In one swift motion Rhun pulled off the oil lamp and threw it and its contents into the torturer's face! The torturer screamed in pain, dropping Aaron and clawing at his skin. Hans lunged at him immediately, intent on taking the man's life. The torturer, eyes blazing, suddenly recovered, though, and swung his weapon violently around. Hans slid towards it, blocking the weapon easily and immediately attacking, driving the torturer away from the boy. Rhun raced to Aaron and pulled him up. Hans leapt back, returning to his brother and the Duke's son.

"What's the plan now?" Rhun asked. "I'm out of ideas."

"Get to Elsa by any means necessary. She's the only one that can save our soldiers now. I'll follow you soon, just go!" Hans ordered. Rhun nodded and quickly raced away, now carrying Aaron in his arms. He slid to a stop outside of a room and tried the door. Unlocked. Good. He entered quickly and set Aaron down on the couch that was there. Maybe here he'd be safe. After all, the torturer didn't know where he was anymore. He locked the door behind him and ran again, fighting through various soldiers to reach the Queen of Arendelle. Hans had better know what he was doing, and he'd better be following by now too.

Frozen

Meanwhile, outside, Elsa was approaching the palace doors. Soon enough she would throw them down and enter. Then she would find the princes and their soldiers. Then she would free them. Then everything would be alright again. Suddenly, though, a figure came into sight. She froze, looking at him a long moment. She tensed up. The Duke of Cumberland. It had to be. He looked like Aaron... He stood before her. She gritted her teeth and broke into a run, snow and ice surrounding her. Time to end this. She crafted a blade of ice into her hand and thanked the gods a million times over her father had taught her and Anna how to wield one… So had Hans and his brothers… The Duke drew his own sword and raced to meet her. She knew he was more skilled, she knew he had an advantage in experience and talent, but she was handicapping him with the blizzard swirling around her. He would have a rough time of trying to strike her, for sure. As she went to him, other soldiers attempted to intervene. These she dispelled of easily. She spun around, sending an ice spike out and pinning a soldier against a wall, but stopping it from impaling him.

"Why have you come, Snow Queen? Why do you fight?!" the Duke viciously questioned. "You know you've lost!"

Not yet she hadn't, Elsa inwardly answered. "I fight so that this madness can end," she answered.

 _"_ _Why do you fight, Prince of the Southern Isles?!" the torturer furiously demanded of Hans._

 _"_ _I fight for the sake of my men and for the sake of the boy you wounded," Hans answered, nimbly blocking a blow from the increasingly more agitated torturer. By now Carr had realized he was no match for Hans in swordplay. Really the prince was toying with him right now._

"You expect me to believe that you think violence can be stopped with more violence?" the Duke asked with a sharp laugh.

"No," she replied simply.

"Then why do you fight?!" the Duke demanded again.

"I fight so that they may be free again," she replied.

"What are you doing?" the Duke asked, eyes narrowing guardedly now. This was building up to something, and he doubted he'd like where it was going.

 _"_ _You've gone mad if you think you have a chance here! You will never be free, boy, never! Why are you still fighting?!" the torturer yelled._

 _"_ _I fight because I must to survive," Hans said._

"I fight for the sake of their sanity and survival," Elsa said. The Duke didn't even try to respond anymore.

 _"_ _I fight because there are brothers at home waiting for me to return," Hans said._

"I fight because their loved ones are suffering, and I am through watching it," Elsa stated calmly, parrying another soldier's attack and slashing at the Duke, who blocked her blade in shock and squinted to try and see through the snow and ice, teeth gritted.

 _"_ _I fight because I made a promise. I told her I would never make her wait. I told her I would come back. I told her I would always be there, and I am_ _ **sick**_ _and_ _ **tired**_ _of broken promises," Hans said to the torturer, tripping him suddenly. The torturer rolled out of the way of a death stroke and staggered up again, flustered._

"I fight because I will not lose him. Not again! Neither him nor his brother," Elsa said to the Duke.

 _"_ _I fight because it's all I can do anymore!" Hans shouted, anguish in his voice. He wanted the fighting to end. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to be left in peace! But peace would never come from battle or from fights, and so he was doomed to always repeat and never break free... Viciously he struck the torturer. The door was ahead. Escape. He would be free to go to her. Free of this prison. He could go home… He threw the torturer violently against a wall and slashed at him. The torturer cried out as the blade cut him deeply, then pulled away, fleeing for his life. Life was not a stake Carr would worth risking. He would get the boy back some other way. There was more than one path to him. Hans watched him go then turned to the door longingly, running towards it._

"I fight…" Elsa began, striking the Duke with a blast of icy air that sent him flying back. The Duke struck the ground hard and lay still. He breathed shakily and looked up at her, for the first time in as long as he could remember feeling genuine fear. "I fight so that he doesn't have to," she finished in an anguished whisper. The Duke was silent, looking at her in awed disbelief.

Frozen

Hans raced outside and saw Elsa holding the Duke at sword point. It felt like his heart had leapt into his throat. He gave a shaky gasp. As if sensing his presence, she turned suddenly. She caught her breath, eyes filling with relief and longing and… and _love_ …? Was it love? The idea that it might be terrified him, but he didn't think on it long. If it was any sort of love, it was the love of a friend.

 _Who are you even kidding?_

"Hans," she heard herself whisper. She wanted to go to him. He wanted to race to her and pick her up in his arms and never let her go again. He stepped forward as if he were about to do just that… But suddenly desperate cries were heard and he froze, looking back. That voice… Rhun! He felt his heart sink. He wanted to turn away, leave his brother to fend for himself. Rhun could break free. Rhun was skilled. He didn't have to go back in there! He could go to her, they could leave. Rhun would soon join and everything would be… everything would be what…? Fine? They'd all live happily ever after? No… No… It would never be fine again… There _were_ no happily ever afters…

He looked back at Elsa, pain and anguish in his eyes. He saw the confusion in her own, then the fear as it began to dawn on her what he was going to do. She shook her head. "No. Don't. Please… Please don't… Not when we're so close," she whispered.

He smiled sadly at her, apologetically, then withdrew the necklace from his shirt and held it in his hand. He gazed at the sparkling pendant then looked back up. His eyes fixed on her, and he softly pressed a kiss to the necklace as he kept her gaze. Her heart skipped a beat against her will. She sobbed, covering her mouth. He turned, then, and ran back in. He had to find his brother and save him. The Duke, for his part, looked stunned and totally taken aback. Had that boy just given up freedom, given up a chance to be with the woman, to go back and save his brother? Did he not realize that doing so would cost him freedom? Surely he must have. The way he'd looked at the woman… Tears burned her eyes, he saw.

"The soldiers are in the dungeon," the Duke said to Elsa. "They will all be burned alive. It's your choice, now, whether to save two or many."

Elsa looked at him, hurt in her eyes. "You will pay the price one day," she darkly said to him. Quickly she turned and ran towards the dungeons. The princes might still be able to save themselves, but their soldiers wouldn't. The Duke watched after her uneasily, torn between shaken, fearful, and angry.

Frozen

Elsa threw open the doors to the dungeons with a powerful ice blast. Immediately she sent her snow inside, letting it smother and choke the flames that were blazing. With her powers she sent spikes to penetrate the doors and break them open. Without even thinking she willed them to form armor and weapons of ice for the tortured and broken soldiers of the Southern Isles. One by one, cautiously, they stepped outside of their cells, thin and haggard and weak. Even worse so than she had seen Hans had been. Her heart broke for them. They looked at her in wonder as if afraid this was all a dream. "Follow me. Quickly," she ordered. They didn't need to be told twice. Immediately they followed the snow queen.

Elsa led them outside and they gawked in disbelief at the damage they saw, at everything this one woman had done, and they were in awe. Immediately she conjured ice horses, enough for all of them; and there were many. She send forth an ice path that led them through the battle and away from this place. "Ride as fast as you can!" she ordered. "Go! I can only exert this much power for so much longer!" She was beyond the point of exhaustion as it was. She was about ready to collapse. No one argued her, just obeyed, and she gritted her teeth as she focused all of her energy on guiding the soldiers to escape. She felt herself weakening rapidly and swallowed, shutting her eyes. She would join the princes in captivity soon, she realized... But maybe from there, when her powers, her gift, regenerated, she could save them all...


	13. Threats and Weakness

Threats and Weakness

(A/N: You know when you have hope and you're so excited for that climatic conclusion... and then it's ripped away? Yeah. Next two or three chapters are kind of that. This is where the chapters start hitting an M rating.)

Hans ran through the palace. "Rhun! Rhun!" he shouted.

"Hans!" he heard his brother call. Quickly he adjusted his course, covering the distance from here to his brother.

He threw open a door and slid to a stop, gasping. A railing? He ran to the edge and looked over. His eyes widened in fear. There his brother was, down below, fighting thirty men and obviously losing. To act now would seal their fate. They would be captured again and brought before the Duke. They may not even have that chance. Instead the man might have them killed. He shook his head. Death would be kinder to them than what would befall them otherwise, he decided… He could leave… He could go and be with her… It wasn't as if Rhun meant much to him anyway. He was among the brothers he hated most. He could… he could leave… But if he did, he would never forgive himself because as much as he hated Rudi, he had also come to love him again, in some small way… Large way… After all, he was risking everything to save him. It was definitely not love in 'some small way'. He shook his head, scowled, then quickly raced down the stairs to get to his brother's level and help him fight.

Hans cut through the attackers until he was at his sibling's back. "Hans, what are you thinking?! You should have run!" Rhun shot.

"I won't leave you behind," Hans answered, noting how exhausted his brother was. Wounded too. Plus Rhun's shoulders were still out of shape from when he'd been strung up with hands behind his back; and it was unlikely those injuries wold ever fully recover, so Rhun's performance with a blade had been permanently reduced.

"Hans…" Rhun began.

"We fall together, not alone," Hans said. Rhun could have kissed his sibling on hearing those words, but now wasn't the time. He gritted his teeth, drawing strength from his little brother, and the two began to fight viciously and desperately.

Frozen

Elsa watched as the last of the men disappeared into the distance then gasped, collapsing to the ground with a shuddering breath, body shaking. She could hardly open her eyes anymore, but she swallowed and managed. The blizzard was fading into her slowly, the ice disappearing. She drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes again. She would be taken now, she realized, but it wouldn't be for long, she promised herself. Besides, if she was taken it gave her one last chance to try and save the princes. She had to save the princes… But what if her being captured only doomed them?

 _She was a weakness of theirs, she realized with a painful pang in her heart. What if everything went wrong? What if it all backfired? She… she was their weakness… And they were hers..._

She heard footsteps behind her but didn't have the energy to move. She was focusing it all on breathing and staying awake. The blizzard was no more, and she knelt alone in the courtyard of the palace, surrounded by an army. She was aware of the weapons pointed at her. She would have thought they would have slaughtered her by now. She realized, suddenly, that the Duke was calling for the men to stay their hands. He wanted her kept alive. She looked weakly up. She saw the looks of terror on the faces of the soldiers and felt deeply hurt. She hated it. She hated seeing the fear in the eyes of others when they looked at her. She swallowed and hung her head again.

She felt rough hands seize her arms from behind and gasped as she was pulled back against someone's body and forced to her feet. "You little _whore_. You will suffer for your rebellion," the man hissed darkly. This wasn't the Duke, she realized immediately. She wasn't sure she wanted to know _what_ he was, though the scent of blood that was on him gave her an idea of his job. Executioner, maybe, or torturer… Or both… Roughly he jerked her around and moved swiftly towards the palace. The Duke, meanwhile, called orders to his men to clean things up and take time to recover. He ordered them not to go after the prisoners and to return home to their families and let the enemy do the same… _There_ was something of a man, she noted. Where had it been?

Meanwhile, against all odds, the two princes were beginning to turn the tides of this fight. Soon enough they would have their opening to run. They almost dared to hope. Almost. Ultimately they didn't. This was going to go wrong, they knew. _No_ one was this lucky. Sure enough… "Princes of the Southern Isles!" a voice shouted. Carr. The two brother froze, looking sharply and darkly up. Their eyes widened in horror. In his arms he held the queen, barely conscious. "Are you quite through with this charade?" the man darkly asked. Hans and Rhun were still. Finally they dropped the blades disgustedly, glaring murderously at the torturer. Swiftly they were seized and bound tightly. Elsa's eyes flickered open and fell on Hans. She smirked subtly and he almost smiled. She had a plan, he saw. When her eyes closed, his smile fell. She had a plan, but if she truly thought it would work, whatever it was, she was disillusioning herself… Even still, he couldn't help but hope that maybe it would work out in the end. He wasn't holding his breath, he doubted _she_ was and honestly assumed she was just putting on a brave face, but it was all they could do now.

Frozen

Elsa stood boldly and defiantly in front of the Duke of Cumberland, whose eyes were dark and menacing. She was bound in chains like those that she'd been imprisoned in in her own castle, arms behind her back this time. Her eyes were narrowed coldly as she watched the man. Bound at his feet were Hans and Rhun. Their eyes were fixed on her numbly. Near at hand was the torturer. "You are a brave woman," the Duke remarked. "Brave but foolish. You failed, Queen of Arendelle. It will be your kingdom that suffers for your defiance." Elsa's jaw twitched, but she said nothing. There was no use in pleading for her land. The Duke wouldn't hear her. "When we finish with Scotland and her allies, we make for Arendelle… You think you'll escape, don't you?" the Duke asked. "If you do, if you even try, their lives are forfeit," he added, gesturing to Hans and Rhun. "Rather, _his_ life is forfeit," he corrected, looking pointedly at Hans.

Elsa felt her heart sinking. This wasn't in the plan at all… Something needed to be remedied here. She wasn't sure how, but it would be. She'd figure it out. Her eyes fell on the youngest prince, who was watching her calmly, seemingly totally unfazed by the threat. His eyes all but begged her to run and escape. She wouldn't. The Queen turned back to the Duke. "I understand," she replied.

"Good. Then there'll be no nasty surprises," the Duke replied. "Where is my son?"

"What?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"I told him to stay in his room until the danger was passed. When I went to fetch him, he was gone," the Duke said. He looked at all three prisoners. "Should he have been on that battlefield, should he have been in a fight with any of you, should he have been injured or killed, you will pay dearly."

"He is safe, my Lord," Rhun said calmly. "He is sleeping in a locked room… He was injured, but not by us. It was the torturer Carr that dared put his hands on your son."

Carr started, eyes widening in fear. The Duke's eyes narrowed as he glared at the man darkly. Menacingly he rose. "Explain yourself, torturer," he darkly said.

Carr opened his mouth then shut it. He cursed himself for not threatening Rhun and Hans to keep quiet. They would pay soon enough, though. He'd be sure of it. "My Lord, surely you don't believe these enemies, these _prisoners_ , over me."

"You'd be surprised at who I would trust over you," the Duke darkly said.

Carr inwardly swore. It seemed he was worth less to the Duke than he'd imagined. So the Duke _had_ been humoring him more often than not. "Your boy was trying to reach the battlefield to fight at your side. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't be halted. I struggled with him. He came at me with his sword, and so I struck him. To keep him safe!"

"Struck him many times over," Rhun darkly growled.

"The child wouldn't be subdued!" the torturer sharply snapped.

"You stupid…" the Duke began.

"My lord, would you have sooner seen him dead at the hands of one of the princes, or frozen at the hands of the snow queen?" the torturer asked.

"I will not hear your excuses!" the Duke snapped.

"Your highness, please, go to your mirror room. Look into the mirrors, if you don't believe me. They will show you the truth of it," Carr said. Or make his intentions look even worse, but he had an 'understanding' with the wicked sprites, and so with luck it would work to his advantage. He gave them sacrifices of organs, bodies, and blood from his victims. In exchange they blessed him and gave him protection for when he went out hunting… And killing… And eating…

"I do not need the mirror to see…" the Duke began. He trailed off. On the other hand, perhaps he did. He had always been known for being just in his judgements, after all. The mirror helped with that, though it seemed the corruption in the kingdom had warped the people into believing otherwise. The poor fools truly thought that they were doing what was right, but they weren't. The mirrors, it seemed, were all that kept he himself from being corrupted. He had considered, many times, bringing Aaron there in the hopes they would fix his son, but he never did. He didn't know why, just some part of him told him it would be a horrible, horrible idea to do that. Maybe the darkness in his son was deeper than he'd begun to suspect, and the mirrors and windows would only make it worse. "Very well," he finally relented.

"Sir, no, you don't know what you're dealing with! You don't know what those mirrors and windows are capable of!" Hans exclaimed, alarm filling his eyes. He cried out in pain as the Duke struck him, knocking him off his knees and to the ground. Elsa caught her breath and tried to move towards the prince, but Carr held her firmly back. Hans shook his head, slowly getting to his knees again and glaring at the man.

"You have no right to speak, prisoner," the Duke darkly said. He turned to Carr. "I will return presently and give you my judgement," he said. Rising, he beckoned for his guards to follow him.

Frozen

Soon the only ones left in the room were the bound princes, Elsa, and the torturer. Rhun wanted to laugh his head off at the sheer amounts of fail in that judgement call. He sharply turned to the torturer, eyes narrowed. Hans stayed silent, watching Elsa. He saw the man drawing his hands up and down her arms and seethed. He watched him clasp her neck, eyeing _him_ , and kiss the back of it. She closed her eyes but didn't move. Hans set his jaw, determined not to give any signs of what seeing this was doing to him. The more reaction he showed, the more she may be hurt. It took insane willpower to keep appearing indifferent, though. He didn't believe for a second, of course, that the torturer stood a chance against her, but she was weakened and barely even standing on her own. Slowly power and strength was returning to the Queen, but it was too gradual in coming for Hans to be okay with. He would need to get Mael to help her with that, if he could.

The torturer played with her gown. She shifted slightly, eyes opening and flickering dangerously, warningly. If only she knew how wrong she was in assuming that man wanted anything intimate from her, Hans silently said to himself. Carr couldn't care less about molesting her. Or anyone, for that matter. He only cared to cause pain. He supposed that in Carr's quest to cause anguish, the thing Elsa suspected wasn't out of the cards; except the man would use tools for that job, not himself. Hans wasn't holding it as a likely thing to happen, however. Yet. Carr was more interested in other things… Such as the desecrating of the corpses of men he tortured and mutilated. He got the sinking feeling that when the man did _that_ , mangling them wasn't the only dishonor he did the dead. He had seen the bodies brought from the torture chambers. They were usually covered, but one day an arm had slipped out from under the sheet. There had definitely been chunks of flesh torn out of it. By torn he meant bitten off. Yes, bitten. As in ripped out by teeth. Right down to the bone. As in cannibalized…

"Tell me, Snow Queen. Has any man ever had the honor of seeing you like this?" the torturer darkly asked, letting her dress slip from off of her. Rhun blushed bright red and turned quickly away. Oh wow, this just got really, really awkward. Okay, think of home, think of home, think of his wife and children, don't think about _this_. Elsa's jaw twitched, but she didn't answer Carr. _Has any man ever seen you like this..._

 _Yes… At least, I suspect so. When we rode to save our siblings from the Troll King, that night that Hans and I camped by the hot springs…_

She still believed Hans had looked at far more than he'd let on while she'd slept, before finally waking her. Given the fact he seemed less fazed than Rhun at the sight presented to him only served to confirm her suspicion more. Not that she could talk. She'd caught a fair glimpse too, while they'd been there. She conjured up a gown of ice defiantly and gave a weakened sigh, wavering slightly. Okay, enough of that. She had to let her stamina return before she played with her powers, her _gift_ , any further.

"Ah, ah, ah, none of that," the torturer purred, not deterred. He stripped her again and this time she shifted uncomfortably. Hans was looking away now, trying to spare her some modesty. She wished he wouldn't. Then it wouldn't be the eyes of a man she cared nothing for, seeing more than they were supposed to. She didn't like being this vulnerable. Was she afraid something would happen to her? No. She could face anyone who tried such a thing…

 _Not in this state you can't._

…But she was no less happy with this position she was in. This wasn't supposed to be. This sight, the sight of her exposed body, should have belonged only to the man she would marry. She felt the threat of tears coming, but willed them away. Now wasn't the time to show weakness. Now wasn't the time to feel ashamed. She wouldn't give Carr the satisfaction… The youngest prince's eyes were on her again… On her face, not anything else. For that she was more grateful than he'd ever know… And also slightly put out for reasons she'd rather not think on right now. She cursed desire and curiosity. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts, so they had no right to creep up on her like this.

The Duke returned to the room and froze solid on seeing her, eyes widening in shock. She hung her head ashamedly. Now the eyes of too many men were on her humiliation, she decided, and she wanted to disappear. The Duke blinked then looked accusingly at the torturer. "Your words regarding your actions against my son were true, so it appears… This, though, I will not allow. Cover her again. Now."

"My lord, she is a prisoner of war," the torturer replied.

"She is still a queen," the man answered.

"And the princes still princes, and yet you left them in nakedness a good long while before your whelp clothed them again," the torturer said.

"You will address my son as your master or lord, not as anything else," the Duke darkly threatened. He turned to Rhun. "Where is my boy?"

"I don't know. The room I left him in looked like a sitting room," Rhun replied.

The Duke nodded and looked at Elsa again. "For god's sake, Carr, cover her. Show some decency," he bit. Swiftly he left to find his son. Hans cursed the man for not staying to make sure his order was obeyed. Now it wouldn't be.

Frozen

Sure enough, Carr made no move to obey. He turned Elsa to him and looked down on her. "I will have fun with you," he purred to her. "And through you, with the princes. Oh the delight I'll take from the princes." He looked at Hans. "You would like to be the one to take the Queen, I suppose?" he asked him innocently. Hans stayed silent. It was better that way. "How would you react if _I_ did?" he asked, goading the prince.

"You obviously haven't heard the tale of my treachery. I couldn't care less what happened to Elsa of Arendelle. Have your fun with her. I'll enjoy it vicariously through her screams," Hans replied, slipping on the mask again. It was so easy to do... It shouldn't be that easy to do...

The torturer chuckled. "If you're so determined to wound her in such a way, or have her wounded like that, perhaps you would like her in _your_ cell?" he asked.

Hans detected a potential trap instantly. "As much as I would like to wound her like that, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. The thought of sharing my prison with the witch for any extended period of time sickens me. Keep her there for an hour or two, on the other hand, and I'll do that bit of torture for you," he smoothly answered.

The torturer looked at him, obviously trying to figure him out. As expected, he couldn't. Rhun could have laughed. If Hans didn't want to be figured out, he wouldn't be. Sure enough, the torturer soon gave up, though Rhun didn't believe he was done. He would try to experiment with Hans's shell, he knew, try to find some inkling within him of love or care for her… And he would find it, if he played his cards right… So here was hoping he didn't. At least not before she had regained enough power to get away from this place. Swiftly she was taken away. Not long after, Hans and Rhun were returned to their cell to await the Duke.


	14. Would You Like To See Him Suffer?

Would You Like to See Him Suffer?

(A/N: Be warned of very gruesome and disturbing happenings to come. In this chapter.)

"She can't stay here, father! Please. Don't keep her here," Aaron pled with his parent as the Duke lightly dabbed a damp cloth on the young teen's various cuts, whilst inwardly raging at Carr and making numerous vows as to what he'd like to do to the man but ultimately never would. Aaron had been negotiating for Elsa's release for the past two hours. He'd have thought his son was sick of trying by now, but to his own surprise he found himself seriously pondering his son's pleas. "She killed none of your men. She didn't kill me either. The princes were the ones who killed, you've said that's why you'll not ask for ransom or make a deal for their release, but Elsa didn't! She can't stay. You don't know what Carr will do to her!"

"To them," the Duke said. Carr was ordered to focus on the princes.

"How do you think he'll get to them the worst?!" Aaron demanded. "You left a loophole, dad, a large one, and he'll exploit it for everything it's worth!"

The Duke paused and sighed, drawing the cloth away from his son. He looked out the window quietly. "She can't be freed… She knows where we are. She will lead the enemy here, and we will all be in grave danger."

"So then send her back home," Aaron pled, voice breaking. "Back to Arendelle, where she can't do further damage. Even back to the Southern Isles themselves! The King won't let her leave again. I know she can't go back to the battlefield, but if we don't let her go and she _does_ manage to escape, she will go to the princes on the battlefield and tell them of all that befell her at Carr's hands. Then we'll not only have _her_ to contend with, but all their enraged allies! You've said anger, sorrow, vengeance, and protective instincts ae some of the most powerful things you could possibly contend with. The Sorcerer Prince will come down on us like a storm, and his brothers with him!"

"The what?" the Duke asked, looking quickly at his son.

Aaron tensed up. Oops... He looked down. "I've heard tale that the third born brother was cursed, long ago, with great power. Dark animal and creature based magic, as well as foresight. That won't matter, though, if we send her to the Isles or to Arendelle again. She'll have no way, there, of telling the enemy where we are. Well, she could, but not as efficiently, and not in a way that would even make much sense to them!" he said. He was suddenly aware of the way his father was looking at him. Mystified, almost; confused… Questioning… Like he was trying so hard to see something in his son and not understanding why he couldn't find it. "Dad?" Aaron asked.

The Duke was silent. Soon he rose and turned to leave. "I will do what I can for the queen," he replied as he exited the room and shut the door behind him. Aaron blinked blankly, then bowed his head sadly. What if that meant no…? He would have to try again if it did, he decided. And again and again. He wouldn't give up.

Frozen

The Duke entered the dungeons grimly. He could hear the screams of a tortured prince from here and paused, jaw twitching slightly. The older, he realized. He didn't care to think on what was befalling him. He looked into the cell in which Elsa lay unconscious. He watched her silently, leaning on the bars. He pondered on how to go about this. She would wake soon enough, he knew. If any plans to slip her away were going to work, she had to be unconscious. Nothing short of that would make her leave the princes behind. Perhaps, in this instance, the youngest would be of some great use. He pulled away from the bars of Elsa's cell to go to cell of the siblings.

He stopped outside of the bars and saw the youngest curled up against the wall, head buried in his knees. Now that they knew there was no point in hiding away the fact they cared about one another, he could see just how agonizing and breaking these passed months had been for them. As if sensing the Duke's presence, Hans numbly looked up at him. "Stop him, please," he pled in a whisper, though he knew it would do nothing.

"Your brother is getting what he deserves. Soon you will be too," the Duke replied.

Hans's jaw twitched, but he said nothing, bowing his head again and closing his eyes. "I spared your son's life… Now spare my brother his," he replied. Did he believe anything would come of it? No. It was worth trying, though. To his surprise, neither a denial nor confirmation was given. The man was just silent… Hans had heard such silence before… So had Iscawin, apparently. The day father had ordered the second youngest to kill the youngest. Their father, though, hadn't been effected by the mirror. Not as far as _he_ knew anyway.

"If you do a second thing for my benefit, I'll grant you this," the Duke said.

Hans hopefully looked up. "Name it," he said instantly.

"I'm going to give you a type of herbal mixture, and you will find some way to apply it to the Queen of Arendelle. It will cause her to fall into a comatose state. Not for long, but for long enough," the Duke said.

"Long enough for what?" Hans suspiciously asked.

"Long enough for me to send her back to your kingdom or to hers," the Duke answered. "So in a sense it's a kindness to us both, and to her as well."

"What?" Hans replied, taken aback by this. Was the Duke… was he letting her go? "You're…"

"I'm setting her free. Yes," the Duke stated bluntly. "Don't ask me why. I have no answer to give you that would make any sort of sense. Here is the mixture, and now I go to rescue your brother." The Duke tossed the mixture in to the prince, who caught it in shock. He deduced immediately that it could be applied in two ways. Either orally in food or drink, or topically as an ointment. She was in danger, as long as she was here; and though she believed she could save them all, she couldn't. Not without a steep price being paid. He would not let that price be her life or Rhun's, and so she couldn't remain. For both their sakes she couldn't remain… She was the torturer's way to him, and he was the torturer's way to her. He would do this, no matter the risk.

Frozen

He looked up as he heard yelling coming from the torture room. Carr and the Duke, of course. "This torture session has ended, that is final! Focus, now, on the youngest son of the Southern Isles," the Duke sharply commanded. There was silence. Soon after, the doors to the torture chambers were opened and the unclothed Rhun was dragged out limply, bleeding horribly and face a mask of agony and exhaustion. It seemed he was, in fact, trying to hold back tears that he probably hadn't been holding back when Hans wasn't at a risk of seeing. Hans was pale. The cell door was opened and Rhun was shoved inside, falling to the ground.

Before the cell could even be slammed shut, Hans had leapt across the space between him and his brother. "Rudi!" he exclaimed, falling at his brother's side and protectively pulling him near. It was as if Rhun was barely conscious. "Rudi, Rudi, look at me!" Hans pled. Painfully Rhun opened his eyes, looking at his brother, then shut them again. "Oh god… Oh god, what did you do to him?!" he demanded of the torturer.

"He'll live, boy. As long as his injuries are kept clean," Carr said, obviously bitter about that fact.

"What did you do?!" Hans shouted.

Carr smirked wickedly. "The Judas Cradle. Otherwise known as Gilded Cradle," he purred as if it were casual as anything. "And next on the list for _you_ , after some psychological torment with the queen, will be the Rack. We'll have a fun day together, little one."

"I'm going to kill you!" Hans veritably screamed, lunging at the bars and seizing them, shaking them violently. Carr actually stepped back, worried the surge of adrenaline would drive the prince to actually be able to break out, but before they could see if that was so…

"Your brother is moving," the Duke intervened. Hans snapped back to himself and turned quickly, seeing Rhun weakly crawling across the cell to his bench. Fear filled Hans's eyes and he swiftly went to his sibling, helping him onto it and covering the near-broken Rhun with something that would at least conceal him and spare him _some_ modem of dignity.

"Now, boy, it's your turn," Carr purred to Hans. Hans remained kneeling by his brother's side, watching him.

"What are you waiting for, Carr? Go in and fetch him," the Duke said. Carr gave the Duke an icy look, catching the veiled challenge. The man was daring him to do it, to enter that cell with the injured prince and the very, very incensed brother. They both knew what would happen if Carr went in there to get Hans.

"I will. But first, leverage," Carr said. He turned to two guards, who looked visibly disturbed at the happenings going on here. "Bring the girl," he ordered. Hans sharply looked over, eyes narrowed dangerously. The soldiers shifted uneasily, but nonetheless went to fetch Elsa. Before passing out, the queen had conjured an ice gown up for herself again. Whether it would stay on her long when Carr got his hands on her was up to debate. The torturer preferred his victims feeling as vulnerable as possible, because then they were easier to break. Hans stayed quiet. Carr had leverage now, but he wouldn't soon enough… The man didn't know it, but he'd just given him an open opportunity to give Elsa the mixture. Maybe he should feel more ethically torn over drugging her than he was, but he wasn't certain. What he knew was that he'd rather deceive her and see her returned home alive, than have her tortured and humiliated to get to _him_ ; even if it was only for a brief time.

Frozen

It wasn't long before Elsa was brought before them. Gagged and kept a good distance from the princes, but there nonetheless. She still looked weak, but also steeled and determined and bold. Her eyes screamed for him not to be afraid of what would befall her, but he was. The cell door was opened. "Come out, Traitor Prince," the torturer said. Elsa moved as if trying to lunge at him for calling Hans by that title. Hans's jaw twitched slightly, but he didn't retaliate. After a moment he silently came out. He was brought to the torture chamber first. After a few minutes of waiting, Carr entered the room as well with Elsa and ungagged her.

Elsa's eyes widened on seeing the prince, but she knew immediately she wasn't to speak. They would never be allowed to, she realized. Which was probably better, given Hans's words to Carr when he'd slipped back on the mask of cold indifference and hatred. It was best to play the deceit game and make like they despised one another… The problem was she _couldn't_ play that game like he could… Already, just seeing the position he was in, she wanted to end the charade. He was on his knees, wrists shackled behind him, chains attached to the wall. He was struggling against the bonds, but when he looked at her he stopped briefly, silently watching. Quickly, though, he began struggling again as if unfazed by her being here.

"You expect me to consider this torture after what you put my brother through?!" Hans sharply demanded of Carr.

"It's torture, alright. Of a different sort than I put on your brother. To be truthful, though, I'm still debating whether it'll be you I torture or her. Perhaps both. There are so many creative ways to do it," Carr said.

"I told you what she was to me," Hans bitterly replied. "Now get her out of my sight!"

"Not long ago you were saying you wouldn't be opposed to wounding the woman," Carr remarked. "What changed? Desperation to set her free of this room?"

"If you want her here, that's your business," Hans replied with a scoff. He almost added that if Carr wanted him to wound her he'd do so now, but then it was more likely than not that Carr—whose suspicions were already high—would call his bluff and tell him to do it. If _that_ happened… If that happened he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it… He could only stall for as much time as possible, because goodness knew the hours of fun Carr would have otherwise. Of course, odds were he'd probably have hours of fun anyway. He had to be very careful. Him because he wasn't sure she'd be able to… He hoped, but he didn't know. He wondered. If he attacked her emotionally, would he wear her down enough that she would fall into the part? If he could make her genuinely hate him again, or be disgusted at him… But then wouldn't that be torturing her in a way anyway? Dammit, things were so much _easier_ when there'd been no doubts he'd despised her. It was easier to be the villain… Or perhaps it was easier for him because a villain was what he _was_ …

He could wear the masks of hatred and conceit and indifference, but were they really the masks, or was what he was trying to be now the falsity? He shook his head, trying to be rid of those thoughts. They were the mirror's, not his... Weren't they...? He glared challengingly at Carr, who was shackling Elsa across the room. She was allowed to stand, but like him her wrists were behind her and chains held fast to the wall. "I wonder… How much will you be able to bear seeing her suffer? And vice versa," Carr mused.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can bear," Hans darkly answered in a tone that made a chill race up Elsa's spine and through her bones. She knew that tone… Oh _how_ she knew it. It brought back nothing but bad memories, and subtly she shuddered to hear it again in his mouth. It had been so long… It was jarring to realize how completely and totally natural it sounded from his lips, and yet how foreign it sounded as well. The voice with which he had spoken in more and more often the closer they drew, the good one, also seemed natural, no foreignness in it… Until she compared it to how natural the cruel one sounded. Then she was left to question once more. She damned him a thousand times. Why did he have to be such a puzzle?

Carr eyed Hans warily. The tone had been cold enough to actually surprise the torturer, which was saying something. "What of you, girl? In how much agony must this boy be before you crack?" he asked the Queen. Elsa was silent.

 _I never want him to be in agony again…_

"It's as much a mystery to me as to you," Elsa quietly replied. Carr blinked blankly. These were… unexpected answers. From both parties. Hmm… This could be challenging. And amusing. Or it would be hopelessly simple.

Frozen

Carr began to pace behind Elsa. To leave her dignity or to take it? If she felt in a position of dignity and power, while he made the boy less than nothing… Should she love him, she might not be able to bear it. But then she'd proven to be very durable. In mind and power, that was. Who was to say, though, that emotional durability could stand the test? Sometimes emotions were more powerful than mind and physical power. She may be able to endure, but if nothing else he would see hints of pain in her eyes. That would be amusing indeed. Stripping her had seemed to do little good earlier in the throne room. Not when it was the young prince's eyes that were on her. It was like they were totally comfortable in such a state with one another, despite never having been in any similar position before. She desired him. Perhaps loved. _Surely_ she must. Despite the boy's claims and protests to the opposite, despite the girl's insistence he was only an intimate friend, he knew she would not have dared that army solo in the manner she had for some mere friend. Or would she? Whatever the matter, it certainly wasn't the older price she loved, and Rhun most definitely didn't feel anything for her either, so really Hans could deceive all he wanted. The evidence to the contrary was already on the table.

On the other hand, perhaps Hans _did_ despise her and mistreat her, and she loved him regardless. No, that was foolish. She was a wiser woman than that. A blind man could see as much. Of course, she _was_ a merciful queen it was said, who pitied her enemies. If she saw some good in the prince, she wouldn't want to watch that potential snuffed out. Hmm, he decided he was overthinking things. It was time to just do. No more analyzing, just act. He took her shoulders from behind, making her gasp. He leaned close to her ear. "Watch him suffer," he whispered to her. She stiffened under his grasp and he smirked. He'd struck the right chord. If he could break her, the road would be paved for him to break the prince.

He crossed swiftly to Hans. Elsa fought to remain composed, but fear reflected in her eyes, and unease. Hans scowled darkly at the man, bracing for anything. What happened next, though, he couldn't have hoped in a _million_ years to prepare for. Carr fell next to him, seized his head shoving it roughly to the side, and sank his teeth into the prince's flesh between the neck and shoulder without even a thought! Hans screamed in agony and perhaps fear as he felt the teeth enter his skin, as he felt blood begin to pour out, as he felt flesh torn from his body. "Oh god!" he cried out in agony writhing frantically as Carr withdrew with the chunk between his teeth. "What the," insert string of explicit and extremely not princely curses here, "kind of _psycho_ are you?!" Hans freaked, suddenly near panic. No, no, it was full blown panic now, as evidenced by his frantic fighting. Elsa was as white as a sheet, mortified at what she'd just seen. This had to be a dream. Nobody _did_ this! This wasn't-this wasn't... Oh _god_ it was real! Dammit. The man was a _cannibal_?! She tried to scream, but no sound came out. That was how deep her shock was. The horror written on Hans's face…

The man began to eat the flesh he had taken… The man was _eating_ it as Hans continued crying out in pain from the injury. Elsa nearly fainted. Hans didn't look far off from that stage either. He in fact looked close to throwing up. The man finished and looked at Hans with a delighted and twisted smile. He licked his lips and moved to bite again. Hans screamed another very uncharacteristic curse word beginning with an F, and followed by many other frantic curses and or and pleas as the man tore out a chunk of flesh from his arm, eliciting another shriek of pain. He was being eaten alive! Not just 'eaten alive', but eaten alive by another human _being_! "Stop it!" Elsa found it in her to finally shriek. "Don't do this, please! _No_ one deserves this! What are you doing? Stop! Hans!" she cried out, struggling against her bonds. Her powers were suddenly kicking to light again, and regenerating as they fed from emotional panic. The cuffs began to freeze.

Sensing the change, Carr rose and went to her, striking her across the face. Elsa gasped, snapping out of the emotional high, and looked at the man in disbelief. He smirked, wiping the blood from his mouth with a thumb, then turned back to the prince. "Stop? Very well. Then I'll taste _you_ next." Elsa suddenly realized how badly she was shaking as her eyes widened in terror.

Hans crumbled like glass. He didn't give it a second thought, he didn't think, he didn't try to talk himself out of it to keep up with a persona. He lost it. "Leave her alone! Elsa!" he shouted, struggling frantically against his bonds. "Carr, if you do anything to her I'll murder you, do you hear me?! You'll pray for death, do you understand?! You'll pray for it and I'll laugh and drag it out all the longer! Elsa! Leave her alone!"

Carr smirked victoriously and turned to Hans. "So you care after all," he noted. Hans, heart thundering practically out of his chest, could only breathe. Rapidly. So rapidly there as no room for him to do anything else. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. He didn't even try to speak. Words weren't about to come to his mouth anytime soon. He needed to focus on calming down. Carr turned to Elsa and smirked. Darkly he chuckled. "I suppose, then, that I'll have to wait for your corpse rather than try you live. Then again, if the prince dies there's nothing stopping me." He turned to two terrified looking guards, cowering back from him in mortification. "Bring the Rack!" he shouted to them. Instantly they shot off as if afraid delaying would mean Carr murdered and ate _them_.

"No! No, don't!" Elsa cried out, fear filling her expression. "Carr, please, I'll do anything, just don't do this! No!"

"The more you squeal, the more he suffers," Carr threatened, and Elsa immediately fell silent. She noticed, suddenly, that she was weeping. When had she started to weep, she wondered? The Rack was brought into the room. Hans looked at it in disbelief, heart sinking. Oh god… He cringed and closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to be brave. It was better than that _maniac_ sinking his teeth into him. He drew a deep and shaky breath, and slipped on a stony mask. He didn't move as they unbound him and transferred him to the rack. He gave no sign of fear. They lashed him there tightly. Immediately they began to stretch his limbs. He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes tightly. He gasped in pain as he felt the pressure. The blood from the chunks of flesh Carr had taken… It soaked his arm and his body… Carr pulled open the prince's shirt roughly. Hans opened his eyes. His grimace had become a sneer, and his eyes blazed murderously.

Carr examined Hans's chest then smirked. Ribs always tasted fine, he noted to himself. Hans felt his shoulders on the verge of dislocating as the crank was pulled again. It was then, though, that Carr waved his arm, signalling the men to stop. Teeth gritting, Hans watched as Carr returned to Elsa, who was observing in silence. Her expression was neutral, but the anguish in her eyes, and the tears slipping down her cheeks, gave away how she was truly feeling. Nonetheless she stood tall, holding onto her pride.

 _They're going to kill him… Right in front of you they'll execute him… But you can't show fear. You can't show how much this is hurting you._

Frozen

"Suddenly so cold, Snow Queen," Carr murmured. She said nothing. "Would you like to see him die?" She continued in silence. "Would you like to see him suffer?" Carr asked. Again no response. "Would you like to see me dine?" Carr questioned in a growling whisper. She let out a shaky breath, but kept quiet. "It pains you, doesn't it? To see him like this. Why?" Silence. "No answer? Oh, I think I'll get one soon enough," Carr said. He turned to Hans. "Crank it again." The soldiers did so, albeit reluctantly, and Hans cried out in pain as he felt his shoulders scream in protest. "Now give me a knife," Carr commanded. Quickly one scrambled to obey and was swift to get as far from the torturer as possible. Carr thumbed the blade. "Do you see this dagger, Queen Elsa?" he asked. She was quiet. He smirked. "It's the one you'll _wish_ I'd used, before this is done," he said. He threw it to the side and drew out his own rusty and jagged blade, approaching the prince. "I've never carved up a corpse that still lives," he remarked. "I wonder how it bleeds. How long before it succumbs?"

Elsa savagely bit her tongue to keep from speaking. She tasted blood in her mouth and was instantly revolted as memory of that man biting into the prince's skin struck her full force. She spat the blood out quickly and turned sharply to Hans again. The prince looked at her calmly and nodded. "Close your eyes," he mouthed silently to her.

"Stop it," she heard herself say, voice breaking. Carr paused and looked back. "Just stop," she pled again.

Will you answer my questions?" Carr asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good… Why does it so pain you to see him like this?" Carr asked.

"Because… Because I love him… Whether as a friend or a lover I don't know. I've never known. I don't even understand. I don't understand anything. Not when it began, not what love it is, nothing," she said softly. "He is my confidant, my friend, the reason I still hold my head high. He is so much to me… And I won't let you have him…"

Carr smirked. Amusing. So neither one believed they were in love with one another, and yet neither of them _didn't_ believe either. Such an interesting concept. And one that would be fun to play with. Next time, then, he would play all the harder. He approached her, gazed down into her eyes, and then suddenly struck her so violently that she gave a strangled cry and collapsed to the ground unconscious. "Elsa!" Hans cried out.

"Have the boy bring her back to the cell," Carr ordered. "Then return him to his own." With that, he turned and left.

Frozen

Hans was unbound and dropped to the ground with a gasp of pain. He shook his head and looked quickly up at her. His eyes widened fearfully and he staggered up, racing to her side and gathering her into his arms, stunned. "Take her, boy," a soldier said. Hans was silent. After a moment, though, he picked her up bridal style and mechanically began to walk back to the cell in which she was kept.

Hans laid the queen down on the bench and looked at her silently. The soldiers made no move to get him to leave. He suddenly realized his thumb was tracing her lips. He suddenly realized how much he wanted to feel them again like he had the night before he and his brothers had left the suitor games to return home… He could kiss her, he knew, and no one—or very few—would condemn him for it… But he didn't… He didn't, because he cared for her more than that. Or he didn't care for her enough to take a risk that big. It was so confusing… He didn't know what he felt anymore, and it unsettled him. He always knew what he felt…

He shook his head and slipped the mixture the Duke had given him from a pocket of the clothes Aaron had brought them to wear. Dipping his fingers into it, he began to apply it to her neck and throat, under her chin… on her lips… He snapped out of it quickly. He hated that he wanted an excuse to touch her like that. He frustratedly shook his head and lifted her own up, pouring the rest of the mixture into her mouth. Topical application would theoretically work faster, but that was far too tempting, he decided. Oral application would do the job every bit as well. She was unconscious already anyway. He finished his work quickly. None of the soldiers questioned what he'd done. They'd rather not know. He rose and left her side, going quickly towards his own cell where his brother waited.


	15. Close Call

Close Call

(A/N: And the prize for most generic chapter name ever goes to... this one. Again, still sicker than a dog so not a lot of energy to edit or write. Went over it, but might have missed some things. Next chapter goes back to the trolls, but it's not finished yet so I'm cautious about promising it'll be up tomorrow. Getting sick kind of seriously killed my writing energy, so I've been writing up the chapters way slower than usual. Anyway, enjoy.)

When Hans had returned, Rhun had been stricken dumb from horror, instantly recognizing what had taken the chunks of flesh from his baby brother's neck and arm. Panic had ensued, which Hans really hadn't paid attention to as he was busy fussing over Rhun while Rhun was fussing over him, and it was all just a big and kind of awkward mess. Soon, though, they'd settled. Rhun had passed out again, but Hans was wide awake, looking at the roof.

"It's done. She's been smuggled onto a ship and will be sent to the Southern Isles," the Duke's voice said suddenly.

Hans looked over at the man in silence. "What excuse will you give your people when they hear?" he asked.

"No excuse. Strictly truth," the Duke answered. "She was too dangerous to keep as prisoner, and that the Southern Isles would be able to subdue her as she was their ally."

"More a disillusioned truth," Hans bluntly said. "What excuse, now, will you give Carr?"

The Duke was quiet for a long time. Finally he answered, "I'll tell him she escaped."

"Will he believe?" Hans asked.

"No. But that's no concern of mine," the Duke answered.

"What if it becomes a concern of your boy's?" Hans asked.

The Duke froze as he was walking away, and soon looked darkly back at Hans. "My boy will be fine. Better than fine… I intend to bring him to the mirror room and cleanse him of the corruption that infiltrated him," the man answered.

Hans's eyes widened in horror. "You can't do that!" he exclaimed. "My Lord Duke, those mirrors aren't what you believe! They show the world through a _lie_! They are not blessed gifts, they're a curse! You can't bring him there, you can't!"

"Yes… They told me you'd say as much," the Duke darkly said. "And they told me that if you did say those words, you were to be brought there as well." Hans's skin became ashen. He couldn't be there. He couldn't be there, no!

"Please," he finally managed to whisper, suddenly aware he was shivering. "You can't bring me there. You don't understand what will happen to me if you do."

"Yes I do. It's you that doesn't understand. I'm saving you, child. Be grateful," the Duke said.

"You're ending my life! Mine and your son's both!" Hans shouted after the man as he walked away. This time, though, the Duke didn't turn back. Oh god. Aaron! "Duke, please, leave your son alone! Leave him! Take me first! Let me be saved! They may backfire if a younger boy goes there!" The Duke paused, looking ponderous, then apparently decided the prince was a liar and continued on regardless. "My Lord Duke, don't!" Hans shouted frantically, but the doors shut behind the man and there was nothing left to be said.

Frozen

She awoke in a room. An unfamiliar yet somehow familiar one. She frowned and sat up. Where on Earth…? "Elsa, you're alright," a voice said. Iscawin?

Elsa quickly looked over and her eyes widened. It was him! "Is this a dream?" she asked tensely. How had she gotten here?

"No," Iscawin replied, sadly shaking his head. "I wish it were, but it isn't… You were set free, Elsa… You were drugged, put on a boat, and sent away from Cumberland and the war. You're on the Southern Isles again."

"No, this can't be!" Elsa exclaimed. "I was just in the dungeons of Cumberland. I was just with Hans! I was going to get them out, they couldn't have…"

"Elsa," Iscawin cut off, voice weak. "You're not there anymore," he finished.

"But-but how could I have been drugged? No one…" she began. Slowly her eyes widened. Her dream. His fingers playing across her skin… It wasn't a dream. "Hans drugged me," she realized, stunned.

"Yes," Iscawin quietly said, looking away from her. "Drugged you to save you… Coth says he did so because you wouldn't go any other way." Elsa was silent. She wouldn't have…

"Why? Why would he…? They could have been free…" she said, voice breaking.

"Because the price of freedom would be too high," a new voice said. She looked over. Kelin-Sel, who looked haggard and exhausted. "The price of freedom would have seen you locked up and tortured… The price of freedom might have cost you your life, and that was _not_ a risk anyone wanted to take… Least of all Hans…"

Elsa lay back down, struck numb. So close… She had been so close! It wasn't fair! It wasn't okay. She could have… She could have saved them. She sobbed, covering her mouth and closing her eyes tightly. Iscawin and Kelin-Sel shifted uneasily and quietly left. She needed to be alone, now… They all did… Their brothers had been in their hands, and now… Kelin-Sel frantically wiped away the tears he felt coming from his eyes as he shut the door to Elsa's room. It wasn't fair… How could this even happen? He looked out of the windows. They would never see their brothers again…

Frozen

Aaron was busy carving in his bedroom, focusing attention on a beautiful looking horse figurine. It was simpler than other things he'd done, but he was putting lots of detail into it this time. The door opened and Aaron looked up. "Father?" he asked, both hopeful and surprised. The man had come to his room of his own accord? Not for any reason, but just because he _could_?

"I need you to come with me, Aaron," the Duke said.

"Why?" Aaron asked.

"Don't ask questions. Just obey," the Duke ordered grimly. Aaron shifted uneasily. He… wasn't entirely sure what to think of this. Uneasily he stood up and followed his parent. When the Duke slowed down so that he could catch up, it should have been a hint. Instead Aaron dared to hope. Eagerly he sped up to come alongside his father. The man was coming to love him again, maybe! That's why he was slowing down for him and suddenly there so much more often. Papa was loving him again! Nothing thrilled him more, but he had to be careful. Maybe it would be a slow cleansing of whatever it was that had taken his father in the first place, so he couldn't rush it even though he wanted so badly to throw himself into his father's arms and bear hug him so tightly the Duke could hardly breathe. He would restrain himself, for now. Until things were in a better place.

Frozen

It wasn't long before Aaron began to get a feeling of dread. The hallways were becoming more and more quiet, more and more decrepit. This was how they had become, over time… But only the halls that led to the mirror room, because the servants feared them and wouldn't enter. "Papa, where are we going?" Aaron finally dared ask. He didn't need to, though. He got the sense he knew the answer.

"Just follow," the Duke said, almost distractedly.

Aaron began to slow down, visibly uneasy. "Father, can we go to the gardens instead? There's nothing down here that I want to do. Let's ride horses, papa, like we used to when I was little," Aaron said. Like we used to when you were my father, he inwardly added.

"We'll go there later, little treasure," the Duke murmured. Aaron felt torn between overjoyed and utterly horrified. It had been so long since his father had addressed him as anything other than Aaron, stupid boy, whelp, waif, or burdensome waste… But that he was doing so now was more unnerving than comforting.

"I don't want to go to that room," Aaron said, stopping abruptly, voice breaking.

The Duke paused and darkly turned. "You will come, whether you want to or not," the Duke warned. "I will use force, if I must. I will do whatever it takes to purge the darkness from you… I want my son back…"

"Your son was always here. It was _you_ who left, can't you see?!" Aaron protested with a sob, backing away fearfully. "I was always here!"

"You've been tainted deeper than I imagined," the Duke grimly stated. He noted the stance his son was getting into. He was about to sprint away. "Don't you even think…" the Duke began. Aaron took off down the hall like a shot. "Aaron!" he shouted angrily after his son.

"Help me! Help! Somebody!" Aaron screamed frantically, fleeing from the halls to the mirror room as quickly as possible.

"Aaron! Aaron!" the Duke shouted after him, voice distant but steadily gaining.

"Don't let him take me, please! Help!" Aaron screamed, tearing around a corner. He slid to a stop with a horrified gasp. Standing in front of him was Carr, expression dark! Aaron gasped, uneasily backing away. Father coming from behind, the torturer in front. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to just stop existing so that he could be hidden from them. He wanted to be anywhere but here!

"Where are you running, Aaron?" Carr asked.

"I-I…" Aaron stammered.

"If you refuse to go with your father, boy, you go with me," Carr stated, smirking cruelly. "It's been decreed by the Duke. So make your choice. Quickly now. Before daddy catches up."

Aaron, shaking, burst into tears suddenly. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening. "What sort of _hell_ is this?!" he screamed in anguish and fury. What sort of horror was he living?!

Carr smirked. "The most frightening kind," he answered. "The kind where not even your own home or loved ones are safe."

Frozen

The Duke came around the corner and stopped. Aaron looked back at him in terror, then to Carr again. He could try to break for it, he could! If he didn't try, he definitely failed. If he did, at least there was a chance. He tried to bolt, but his father pounced, seizing him. "Come here, you!" the Duke angrily said, grabbing his boy in a vicelike grip and forcibly dragging him back down the hall. Carr followed darkly, a look of sick satisfaction on his face.

"No! No! I won't go! Papa, please!" Aaron screamed. "Don't make me go there, I beg you! Father, I don't want to go! No!"

"Stop. This is for your own good," the Duke said.

"It isn't, it isn't! Let me go!" Aaron shouted, jerking free. He didn't move to run, though. There would be no point with Carr blocking the way. Instead he fell to his father's feet, stretching himself over the ground in the deepest and most submissive bow he'd ever given anyone. "Enslave me, father, imprison me, do anything but bring me there, I beg you! If what I feel in my heart is corruption, I don't want it to change! It's kinder to me than any reality. If you bring me there I promise you I'll take my life, I will! Don't do this to me!"

"Aaron!" the Duke shouted, both shocked and perhaps even slightly alarmed at his son's declaration. The darkness was deeper than he'd begun to think, and that terrified him.

"Disown me, cast me out, banish me, have me tortured, just don't put me in that room," Aaron begged through tears. "Please." The Duke was flabbergasted.

"My Lord, I will bring him to _my_ rooms," Carr said. "I don't _always_ torture. I also persuade," he smoothly lied. In reality, his persuasion methods were no different than his intimidation ones, and they came down to the same thing. Torture. At least, though, Aaron would make a decent enough replacement for Elsa in tormenting the princes. He was still cursing the Duke for _that_ little stunt of sending her away. He'd seriously considered assassinating the man for it before deciding there were worse ways to make him pay. Aaron made no protest to Carr's ultimatum to the Duke. At this point he would _rather_ face a thousand of the torturer's torments than be forced into the mirror room that had taken his father from him. He continued to weep at his father's feet, awaiting the man's verdict.

Frozen

The Duke didn't know what to do, or what even to think. His son bowed to the ground at his feet, begging him to even go so far as enslaving or torturing him… But he couldn't let his boy continue in this corruption. Perhaps Carr _would_ persuade the child otherwise? Oh why was his mind in such a haze? It was like he was trying to see through a thick and dense fog in the middle of the night. Carr's offer didn't seem bad, and yet some buried part of him shrieked at him not to allow it. It was the same part that shrieked to him to hear his child's pleas and not force this on him. Perhaps the boy just wasn't ready. Perhaps Aaron just needed more time, and when he was a little older he could get his child purified in the room… But he was so tired of waiting for Aaron to be ready… He wanted his son back _now_.

"Very well," the Duke finally relented. "And I don't mean 'very well' to your offer of bringing my son with you, Carr." He looked at his boy, who now was looking tearfully up at him. "You don't need to go just yet," he said to his child. Perhaps it would be best if he snuck the boy into the room while Aaron was sleeping anyway. It would be trickier, but doable. For a while, though, let his son calm down. Aaron needed to feel safe again, needed to feel he could trust again, before he'd let his guard down enough for a stealthy night visit to work. The Duke 'oomphed' as suddenly he found himself with his arms full of teenager.

"Thank you, dad. Thank you," Aaron said, voice wavering as he clung tightly to the man. The Duke blinked blankly, then after a moment impersonally held his son back. Carr, meanwhile, glared coldly, cursed his luck, and began thinking up another potential plot to pull.

Frozen

Hans was curled in on himself, tears threatening his eyes but not falling. Rhun was silent in shock, still taking in what Hans had explained had happened. "So… so that's it… He'll bring his son into that room and then… then _what_? What happens to us? To Aaron? To anyone?" the older brother asked.

"You know about the mirror and its properties," Hans quietly said.

Rhun was silent. "So when he returns, he won't be the boy we knew…" he murmured.

Hans closed his eyes tightly, willing away the burning. "This is my fault," he whispered. "If I'd exerted myself more or told Aaron about what the shards did... Hell, if I hadn't separated from the rest of you on the battle field and if I'd never been taken, then maybe nothing would have happened like this and Aaron would still be alright."

"No… I think he would have fallen much sooner," Rhun replied.

"Hans, Rhun!" a voice called. Their eyes widened. That was Aaron!

Hans leapt up, as did Rhun, and both ran to the door of their cell. "Aaron!" Rhun shouted. Suddenly the boy was there, looking terrified and shaken. He opened the cell quickly and scrambled in, falling into their arms and shaking. He let himself weep now.

"God, what happened?" Hans fearfully asked. Soon enough, Aaron had stammered out the whole story down to every last emotion he'd felt.

Frozen

Aaron was sitting quietly in their cell, now. They were all silent. The boy just needed to feel safe. Feel like someone was there. God knew his _father_ couldn't be, as much as he thought he was. "Your dad will worry if you don't go back," Rhun finally said to Aaron.

"He thinks I locked myself in my room and that I won't come out until tomorrow," Aaron replied. In reality, he'd locked his bedroom, hung a rope out the window, climbed down, and made for the dungeons. Hans and Rhun were quiet. "There's nothing left of him, is there?" Aaron finally asked.

"There is," Rhun stated.

"How can you be sure?" Aaron asked.

Hans was quiet. Finally he answered, "Because we have seen a man in the monster your father is… If there was nothing left, your pleas would have fallen on deaf ears. He's still there, Aaron, just… skewered…"

"Why?" Aaron asked.

"We can't tell you that," Rhun replied. "It's… it's complicated, kiddo."

"Oh," Aaron said quietly. "Will I learn when I get older?"

"I don't know," Rhun replied. "Do you know why we won't tell you now?"

"Why?" Aaron asked.

"Because we're afraid you would do something foolish with the knowledge; like try to save your father. You'd only make it worse, though," Hans answered for Rhun.

"What if I don't? What if I make it better?" Aaron asked. "Tell me, please. I won't screw it up, I promise!"

"Aaron, when we say it's complicated, we mean complicated. And more dangerous than anything. More dangerous than Carr," Rhun said.

"Nothing is more dangerous than Carr," Aaron quietly muttered.

"These things are. And more twisted and vile," Hans stated.

Aaron looked fearfully up. "Then I have to save my father," he stated.

"Nothing will save your father except for himself. With prompting from you," Hans said.

"Keep loving him, keep showing him you care, keep playing at every heartstring and weakness you know he has, and maybe in time you'll see him coming back. He isn't as far gone as some have been," Rhun agreed.

"And most importantly of all, do whatever it takes, short of hurting yourself or putting yourself in danger, to keep him away from that room," Hans seriously said. "If you do nothing else, do that." The Duke didn't have the shards of the mirror in his heart or his eyes. Right now the mirrors were external forces, not internal, therefore whenever the Duke was away from them, their power over the man weakened. The Duke was staying away more and more often nowadays, with this war and his prisoners and his son all to contend with, and that was good. It was why inklings of the man were returning now, and why he was becoming gentler over time.

"Yes sirs," Aaron replied to them, nodding.

"And for the love of god, stay away from Carr like a plague," Rhun warned.

"Oh believe me, I do that already," Aaron deadpanned. He hated that man.

"Good. Keep doing it. Good luck, Aaron," Hans said. Aaron nodded and went to leave before the torturer or father came down and saw him fraternizing with the enemy.


	16. Massacre

Massacre

(A/N: Sorry for the late update. Had to edit this right before I posted it to keep on track. Just finished it last night so couldn't edit it until, well, now. I really don't want to do this, because there was a lot of potential with these characters, but I have to. Carabis doesn't play games anymore.)

Carabis hovered over the Valley of the Living Rock, shrouded in darkness. The wicked trolls lumbered behind him. The wicked sprites flew high in the air with their leader. "Where are they?" a sprite questioned.

"He's hidden them away," Carabis replied.

"But…?" a troll questioned.

Carabis smirked darkly. "There is always someone on the lookout," he answered. All at once he shot downwards at a breakneck pace, disappearing into mist. About two seconds later a horrified bellow sounded along with a shriek of pain, and another of terror. A troll in rock form bowled into sight, tearing away from the place Carabis had been. Carabis soon emerged, holding the bodies of two other trolls. One had its neck broken. The other had no head at all. He tossed the bodies down nonchalantly. The sprites and trolls came down. The trolls sniffed at the bodies as the sprites began harvesting them. One troll snickered. "This was my father," it said, drawing back from the headless one. "Good riddance."

"Why did you let the third go?" another troll questioned.

"To alert Gran' Pabbie, of course. And the others. They'll come. Don't worry," Carabis replied.

"Why do you despise him?" a sprite questioned.

"Because I was a monster to him on the day I was born; and he made it no secret. The old fool tried to treat me well, but I saw his fear. Smelled it. Felt it. Every time he looked at me, he saw an anomaly that should not have been allowed to exist, and I saw him consider, often, killing or exiling me. Really it was his own terror that spelled his downfall. If he hadn't been so frightened—he shouldn't have been frightened of his son—I never would have tried to learn why. Then I never would have discovered how strong I was," the troll answered.

"Is this revenge, Carabis?" a troll questioned.

"I never really cared much for my father... Or my mother, for that matter. Affection means little to me, so vengeance isn't my motive. The old troll isn't worth the effort anyway. This is a usurping. The fuller my army the better, and we'll have a place to make our home base. A place in which to piece together the mirror once again. It will be back in my possession if I have to cut the bodies of mortals open and pull the missing shards from their still beating hearts or still living eyes," Carabis said.

"What of the dead who contained shards within them?" a sprite asked.

"Necromancy. The third prince of the Southern Isles will finally reach his full potential and extend beyond what even he imagined was possible. It will, of course, kill him, but that leaves his corrupted shade in _my_ hands, to control and do with as I see fit," Carabis replied.

"Lars-Mael's magic is dark, but he's no necromancer," a troll pointed out.

"Isn't he?" Carabis cryptically replied. "What do you think the dark animals he conjures up _are_?" The others started in surprise. "He of course doesn't realize it himself, I blinded him to that, but soon enough he will."

"And when we have the mirror?" a sprite asked.

"We finish what we started all those years ago. But this time we don't drop it," he answered, pointedly glaring at the sprites, who quivered back uneasily. Watching their comrades who had dropped it getting their wings ripped off, amongst other body parts, had not been a pleasant experience.

"Armies will stand against us," a troll growled. "When they find out what is happening, they won't give the shards up."

"I know. And that is why I want the curse on the Westergaard family to advance once again. Mor'du will reawaken, in his last form. He will be powerful still, but weaker than in life, though not by enough to be overly significant. It won't matter for long anyway. When the choice comes to Hans to pick power or family, I will be certain he chooses power, even if I must impale him a thousand times over with the shards. Then I will rip them out of his human shell as it is becoming the bear. Then Mor'du will then be at full power again fed and nourished by the blood of the curse's newest victim. Perhaps Hans's Mor'du form will actually match the original, like the last one's did. Perhaps Hans's will _surpass_ it," the Troll said.

"You will not corrupt that boy, Carabis," a voice said. Carabis sharply looked over in disbelief. There stood Gran' Pabbie, eyes narrowed dakly. "He has gone out of your reach."

"Don't bet on it, father," Carabis replied. "He is weak. I feel it… And he is very near a set of very powerful mirrors. He is mentally broken, and at his most vulnerable. Well, he _will_ be by the time his imprisonment is up. Let the human torturer break him. Then I attack, and he will fall, and you will see that love, as Hans often has said, isn't the be all and end all after all. It is power men desire, not love."

"You know _nothing_ of mankind," Gran' Pabbie darkly stated. "You think you do, but you don't, Carabis. Love is more powerful to them than you know. More powerful than even _they_ know."

Carabis smirked. "Then love is also their weakness, and I will have the young man regardless," he replied. Immediately the hobgoblin attacked his father with a bellow. The sprites and trolls raced forth into the valley. Trolls leapt from nooks and crannies, only the adults, and attacked them desperately, trying to protect their home and the children they'd hidden away in safety. The Valley was filled with roars and screams as both sides began to fall to one another. In the center was Carabis and Gran' Pabbie.

Frozen

"Fall back!" Gran' Pabbie was calling some hours later, realizing that they were giving way to the sprites and trolls. Quickly the fearful rock trolls began to roll away. He struck his son with another powerful blast. Carabis shrieked in pain, writhing. For a brief moment Pabbie hesitated. It cost him dearly. Carabis lunged with a roar and drove his hand into his father's abdomen, channelling an obscene amount of conflicting magic into Pabbie's body. Unable to adapt to the sudden overcharge, Pabbie screamed in anguish and collapsed to the ground weakly. Carabis moved quickly to finish him.

"I don't think so, brother o' mine!" a voice shouted out, suddenly appearing between them and blocking the attack on Pabbie.

Carabis started then smirked. "Bulda. How you've grown," he said.

"Keep away from father!" Bulda shouted as she had once before. This time, though, Gran' Pabbie didn't have the strength to call for her to run. She attacked Carabis more and more powerfully, driving him back. Suddenly another troll joined her in the onslaught. The one that had helped her so very long ago. Cliff, if Carabis recalled correctly. He could smell that they were mated now. How sickeningly sweet.

"As you wish, sister. This was only a trial run anyway," Carabis replied. He bellowed loudly and immediately the sprites disappeared from the fight, teleporting the trolls with them. Laughing cruelly, Carabis vanished. Bulda watched solemnly after him then quickly rolled to her father.

"Dad? Dad! Papa, wake up," Bulda pled, shaking her father. Gran' Pabbie's eyes flickered open, weak and exhausted. Drained. Bulda's heart sank. She didn't like how ill and weak her father looked. He closed his eyes again, slipping into unconsciousness without saying a word. Tears burned in Bulda's eyes.

"We need the aid of Arendelle," Cliff grimly stated. "This is a war we can't win alone."

"We'll only get their armies killed," Bulda protested.

"The mortals are more resilient than we know," Cliff replied. "Hey, it can't hurt to try."

"Go on, then. Hurry back. Please. I want you here in case…" Bulda began. She trailed off.

"I'll be back soon. I love you," Cliff promised, kissing her head swiftly then rolling off at a rapid pace. The others began to gather up those who had been killed, preparing to begin burying the dead and mourning.

Frozen

Anna sat on the throne holding court. She was more than a little uncertain about herself in this position, but Kai and the Duke were there to advise her, thank goodness. The Duke often came for visits now too. She was happy for that. It made her feel not so alone. The one who made her feel strongest on the throne, though, was Kristoff, who always there. She wished she could seat him at her side, but Arendelle was still unaware their princess had married a mere ice harvester, and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the throne while Elsa was away. She granted the last petition of the day and finally the doors to the throne room were closed. She gave a sigh of relief, leaning back. Wow ruling was tough work. How Elsa managed she wasn't sure. Was she doing a good job, she wondered? She hoped so. Kai and Kristoff had both told her she was doing well, but she still wasn't sure. They weren't rulers, so how could they know?

"You're doing a wonderful job in your sister's absence, Anna. I should know. Don't worry about how adequate you are. You've done justly by all those you've dealt with. Perhaps _too_ just. Your people are a little too pampered and mollycoddled by your sister and you both I think," the Duke said. Anna couldn't help but giggled slightly at that. The Duke would never know how much those words meant to her. To hear she was doing well from his mouth... _That_ she could actually believe, because he'd been a ruler himself for a long time now. "They must know their place, Anna," the Duke indignantly said, frowning at her giggling.

"Papa, they do," Anna assured. "Now it's a matter of _keeping_ their loyalty and love."

"Regardless of what you and Elsa believe, it _is_ possible to be too kind," the Duke of Weselton said. "There are men out there who would take your amicability as a weakness and seize the opportunity to try and revolt. More often than not, revolts like that are successful, and _then_ where are your people left?"

"Papa," Anna began with a sigh.

"At least keep it in mind," the Duke said seriously.

"Alright, I will," Anna relented. Well, she wouldn't, but still. Actually… maybe the man made a point. Yeah. She'd keep it in mind just in case.

"Now, Princess, how about you and I take a little trip to our room?" Kristoff said, kneeling in front of her with a suggestive smile. Which the Duke disapproved of, of course, but aside from rolling his eyes he did nothing, biting his tongue. After all, _technically_ the boy was nobility, right?

Suddenly the throne room doors were thrown open. Anna and Kristoff shot to their feet, Kristoff moving protectively in front of her. The Duke sharply looked over, eyes narrowed dangerously. What was this now? His blinked blankly. A boulder? What now? "Kristoff!" the boulder exclaimed, and for a moment the Duke of Weselton was concerned he'd lost his marbles. He might have to schedule an appointment, he thought.

"Dad?" Kristoff asked, surprised.

The Duke gasped as the boulder leapt up and revealed what it was. "A troll!" the old man exclaimed in a cross between horror and wonder. He'd never seen the beasts before in all his days. Strange. He'd imagined they'd be larger than this. Perhaps other sorts were.

"It's alright, Dear Duke. He's okay," Anna said as she and Kristoff went towards Cliff.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Kristoff worriedly asked.

"We are under attack, Kristoff," Cliff gravely said.

"What?" Kristoff and Anna exclaimed at once.

"The hobgoblin," Cliff said. Kristoff paled, his talk with Gran' Pabbie being immediately recalled to mind.

"Oh no…" Kristoff whispered. Determinedly he looked back at Cliff. "What happened?" he demanded.

"It came upon us in the Valley. It killed two of ours and let the third escape to warn the rest. Gran' Pabbie led us into the valley to confront the threat and warned us that if things got difficult that we should flee. He told us that ultimately this all was his fault, and the fight was his to take on. He said he couldn't ask us to risk our lives for his error, but we went with him anyway. The wicked hobgoblin called a fallback, after seriously injuring Gran' Pabbie. We don't know why and we don't trust it, but we had no choice but to accept it. Too many had been killed or injured. Gran' Pabbie was wounded real bad," Cliff explained.

"Oh no," Anna said.

"Take me to him," Kristoff immediately demanded, eyes determined.

"I will, son. I came to ask your help," Cliff said.

"Of course we'll help!" Anna said. She turned to Kristoff. "I'll try and convince the council to approve some soldiers to go and fight for the Valley."

"No. The council will refuse. To them the trolls are just monsters," Kristoff, obviously anguished, replied, beginning to pace. "If this thing is as powerful as we've been told, a few soldiers won't do any good anyway. They'll just end up sacrifices."

Anna opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again as she thought it over. He was right, she realized with heart sinking. "Then what do we do? We have to help them!" she said.

"Discuss it with the Duke. I have to go to my family and scout out the situation," Kristoff said.

"Be careful," Anna pled.

"I will," he promised. Kissing her lovingly, he turned and ran after Cliff.

Anna watched fearfully after her husband. The Duke of Weselton came alongside her. "What do we do?" Anna asked, at a loss.

"I don't know, my dear," the Duke answered. But… he _did_ have one idea. One that required him to return to Weselton. "I leave tomorrow," he said to her.

"Leave? Papa, please don't leave me now," Anna pled. "I don't know what to do!"

"My dear, you have Kai. I won't be gone long. As soon as I can I'll come back; and I may bring a solution to your problem with me," he stated. She looked hopeful. He smiled. "Don't be afraid, Anna. It will be alright."

"Will it?" she asked quietly. The Duke was silent. He didn't know. He hugged her gently then turned to tend to other things.

Frozen

"My fear of him, my coldness to my son… Surely it didn't warp him into this," Pabbie murmured to Bulda weakly, as she stayed at his side.

"No pa, it didn't. Maybe it made him mad, but you said yourself he doesn't feel emotions like most other folk do," Bulda answered. She didn't think Carabis could _feel_ hurt. Perturbed maybe, annoyed possibly, incensed definitely, but not hurt. "If anything it just gave him the excuse he needed, but with or without one he would have done it." At least, that's what she could deduce from all her father had told her of her mysterious brother while growing up.

"I should have been able to bring him back…" Gran' Pabbie whispered.

"Sometimes nothing you do will bring the darkness back to light," Bulda said.

"I know," Gran' Pabbie replied. "And yet the guilt still remains… All lives lost will be because of me…"

"No they won't, pa," Bulda replied. "That's all on _him_."

KAK

"Grandpa Pabbie? Mom? Anyone!" Kristoff called out as he and Cliff reached the Valley of the Living Rock. Sven had hung back. Way, way back. In fact, he hadn't even gone near it. Kristoff had had to walk the last 100 feet, and he'd fought with Sven for three hundred prior to that, before finally no force on earth could have moved that reindeer any closer to the place.

"Shh, Kristoff. They aren't here. They're still at sanctuary. Don't draw attention to us. He may still be near, and if he is I can't protect you from him," Cliff warned.

"Me? But there's like no reason he would want _me_ , is there?" Kristoff confusedly replied.

"You aren't of the fae or of his followers. That's reason enough for him," Cliff deadpanned. Kristoff cringed but nodded.

From above, eyes watched. Carabis. Grandpa Pabbie? What? So… Bulda had adopted a human waif. Disgusting mortal scum. Hmm… This was Gran' Pabbie's adopted grandson. By rights, then, he was also in line for the throne. A human ruling over fae? Revolting. He didn't think so. This boy wouldn't live to see that title fulfilled, he decided; and since he was alone with his only challenger being the boy's adoptive father… He smirked darkly. It was time to pounce. "Mortal scum. Is this the best you could do for my sister, Cliff?" a voice asked. Cliff and Kristoff gasped, spinning. Cliff's eyes widened and he moved swiftly in front of Kristoff.

"Carabis," Cliff said.

"Tell me, was she unable to bear children of her own, or were you unable to impregnate her?" Carabis bit. Cliff looked visibly stung, then his eyes narrowed.

"What happened isn't any concern of yours. You never cared for her anyway as more than a potential pawn in your psychotic game!" Cliff retorted.

"Run back home, Cliff. Or die defending a child that isn't even yours," Carabis threatened. "I will have this boy's blood. No mortal will ever rule the fae while _I_ live and breathe."

"I never intend to rule them, sir. I only need the title for the sake of my marriage to a princess being accepted," Kristoff said, trying for being respectful.

"Sickening, this concept of love. It makes brave men tremble, and strong men fall to their knees broken," Carabis remarked. "It is a poison, and it has no place in the world. Love is hardly needed to keep the human race existing, so why do you bother with it?"

"Because it's precious and amazing and something to value and cherish," Kristoff replied.

"You're delusional, boy," Carabis answered. All at once he lunged, attacking. Kistoff leapt to the side. Cliff immediately became protective and got between Kristoff and Carabis, attacking the hobgoblin with an angry bellow and driving him into the ground. Viciously he began to pummel the figure.

Carabis hissed and began fighting back. "Dad!" Kristoff exclaimed.

"Kristoff, get the others! There'll be no better time to take this freak on!" Cliff shouted. Kristoff, looking mortified, turned and ran to get the others to help Cliff fight the troll king. Why did every part of him scream this was a very bad idea? He almost turned back, but he knew that his help alone wouldn't save Cliff. The trolls were the ones who could take on the hobgoblin, not him.

Frozen

Cliff and Carabis battled frantically. The hobgoblin had to admit to himself that he was impressed. He would have thought he'd have cracked Cliff's stone shell and broken his back by now, but the rock troll was annoyingly resilient. Humph, a father protecting their child. Hah! The bonds between a father and son were nothing special and could be broken easily. He had seen it break apart the ruler of the Southern Isles. Where had the man's natural affection gone after the mirror, hmm? And the Duke of Cumberland… He could have laughed. He was another man whose love for his son would never overwhelm the hatred and wickedness the mirror forced on you. There were no such things as such blood ties. Blood and water were all the same, when it came down to the bare bones of it. That was the lesson he had imposed on the mirror, amongst other things, and time and time again it proved true.

He could remember seeing the thoughts the mirror corrupted from the old King of the Southern Isles. He was so weak. He tried to fight back hatred, he tried to determine why he felt nothing for his sons when he could remember that once there had been something. In the end it hadn't mattered, and soon he gave up fighting. The mirror had consumed him then, and it would consume the Duke of Cumberland. If he had his way, it would consume the youngest prince of the Southern Isles too. He would have that boy as he had had his father, and he would twist him into something unrecognizable. It had come so close before…

Cliff struck Carabis violently, sending him flying back. He immediately followed up with a powerful magic attack. Carabis growled and flew out of the way into the air. He spun on Cliff and dove at him with an enraged roar, tackling the rock troll and shooting through the air towards a nearby boulder. He slammed Cliff into it in the hopes his rock plating would be broken on the boulder. Instead it was the boulder that shattered. He damned rock trolls. They were among the toughest of all troll species and annoyingly difficult to kill. The two collided with two magical attacks. Cliff should not have been able to stand, and yet here he was matching the magic of a sprite and troll hybrid. Carabis's eyes were wide in disbelief. This couldn't be... That was it. This ended now!

He scowled and intensified his attack. He saw Cliff giving way before him, struggling, fearing. Fear was Cliff's downfall. The hobgoblin fed off of fear. "Crumble!" Carabis roared, suddenly channelling all of his power into the other.

Cliff screamed in pain as a voice, Bulda's, screamed, "Cliff!"

"Dad!" Cliff heard Kristoff cry out... Then he heard and saw nothing at all...

Frozen

The trolls watched on, mortified, as they saw Cliff's shell crumble into gravel, and watched him collapse to the ground unmoving, eyes open in death. The wind lightly picked up, and gradually the body began to morph and change until it became nothing more than rock… Rock without life... "No! Kristoff cried out in terror, trying to run to Cliff. The other trolls held him back. Bulda, shocked, gave an anguished scream and looked to Carabis who stood there bathed in his dark magic, wings beating dangerously.

Carabis turned slowly to the trolls, then smirked evilly. "Next," he said as if it were the most casual thing ever. Bulda, eyes staring numbly at her husband, could only hear the sounds of Kristoff sobbing and feel her own tears. Body shaking, she turned slowly to face Carabis. "Now you die, darlin'," she darkly stated to her brother. Without any hesitation she gave an enraged bellow and charged her half-brother. Many of the other trolls followed, pouring down into the valley and attacking Carabis all at once. Carabis gave a bellow of his own, and soon voices echoed it. Kristoff, still numbly kneeling on the ground and staring at his fallen father, looked up the hills and grew pale. From every nook and cranny poured evil trolls and sprites, racing to the Valley.

"No, don't go down there! Mom, guys, it's a trap!" Kristoff cried out. He tried to run down to them. He wouldn't let them fight this alone! …But he was too late... He looked on in mortified horror as the evil trolls and sprites surrounded the peaceful trolls of the Valley of the Living Rock, cutting them off. Screams echoed, sounding in Kristoff's mind like a nightmare. That was it! This was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare! He wasn't here. He was safe in bed with Anna. Dad wasn't dead, he wasn't watching his family being slaughtered and massacred by this dark army, Carabis wasn't holding mom in the air and channelling a magical blast of such power into her that she was writhing and screaming and cracking. He could run into this battle and help them and come out alive because dammit this was a nightmare! It was only a _nightmare_!

He cried out, feeling someone catch him and pull him back, throwing him to the ground. He looked up. Gran' Pabbie. Such grief was in his eyes… "I warned you not to come back… I told you your place was with the humans now…" the old troll sadly said.

Kristoff's eyes slowly widened in horror. "You knew…" he breathed. "You knew this would happen!"

Gran' Pabbie gave a mournful smile. "There is so much I wish I could tell you. So much I would like for you to know… But I can't… Not anymore… It's too late for us all…" he said.

"Let me fight and die with you!" Kristoff begged through tears.

"No… Go to the sanctuary, grandson. In it the children hide and await their parents. Parents who will never come back… They're alone now. They shouldn't have ever had to be… They have only you. Go to them, wait for silence, and then… Then go home, Kristoff, to your wife, and prepare her for what's to come. Spend every minute you have with her, because if we fail here, it is Arendelle he will fall on next, and there will be no one left alive in it. Help her to hide away and protect as many people as she can. She needs you now, more than ever," Gran' Pabbie said.

"Daddy!" Bulda screamed before the sound of a loud crack was heard.

"Mom!" Kristoff screamed, seeing Bulda's rock shell shatter. Gran' Pabbie turned numbly. He watched on in silence, eyes broken and miserable, as Carabis drove his daughter into the ground and delivered a finishing blow. Tears shone in the old troll's eyes, but nothing else, and Kristoff felt a chill of terror shoot through him. There was only one reason Gran' Pabbie wouldn't have stepped in, one reason he wasn't mourning now… Because he knew all hope was lost… He knew there was no victory to be had…

"Protect the children. They are all that will remain of the Rock Trolls in the Valley of the Living Rock when this is done. One day they will return. One day this place will be home again… But not for many years… Our civilization is lost until our children grow and return," Gran' Pabbie said.

"Granpa…" Kristoff pled in a whisper. "Tell me this is a nightmare."

Gran' Pabbie looked at him and smiled sadly. "I wish with all my heart I could," he answered. "Goodbye, grandson."

"Grandpa, no!" Kristoff cried out as Gran' Pabbie charged into the battle and attacked Carabis full on in grief and rage and regret. Violently the two tangled. Kristoff rose to run to them, but Sven was suddenly there, seizing his coat and frantically trying to pull him away. Kristoff struggled, but only briefly. He sobbed, and turned away from the sight, hugging Sven tightly. Quickly he mounted the reindeer who raced away from the battlefield and towards the sanctuary where the troll children waited. That was something Kristoff dreaded more than anything...

Frozen

As Kristoff gazed at the hopeful and frightened faces of the troll children, he wished he could just die.

 _What do you even **say** to children who've just lost all they knew and loved…?_

Hey kids, your families just got massacred and now you're the only ones of your kind left in the Valley of the Living Rock. Kristoff felt tears burning his eyes. That would be the worst thing possible to say. "Kristoff, when are ma and pa coming back?" one little troll girl asked.

Kristoff, shaking, collapsed suddenly and began to weep. Immediately the children, terrified, gathered around him. "Kristoff, Kristoff, what's wrong? Don't cry!" the insisted to him, trying to comfort him. "Everything'll be okay!"

 _No it won't. It'll never be okay again._

Sniffing, he looked up at them. "One day maybe," he finally replied, smiling bravely at them. "But not for a very long time," he added, smile falling.

"What's happening?" another troll girl questioned, scared.

Kristoff opened his mouth but then shut it again, shaking his head. What was he supposed to _say_?! "They're… they're gone…" he finally breathed.

A stunned hush fell over the children. "G-gone? What do you mean gone?" a toll boy asked.

"They're… They're not there, anymore," Kristoff said. "They've… they've become one with the mountains, now…" At least, he believed that was what became of dead trolls… It was what became of Cliff…

"One with-with mountains? What do you mean?" a troll boy questioned, voice breaking.

"I mean that they can't come back anymore. They can't talk to you or hug you or kiss you or take care of you. They're just… They're the mountain now… But they still love you, and they always will, they just… can't be here anymore," Kristoff said, trying to break it to the children as gently as he possibly could. There was stunned silence, and the next thing he knew he was contending with a cave full of weeping and sobbing troll children. You know what? It was easier to join them than sooth them. He broke down too, crying with them. Sven gave a mourning groan, 'weeping' in his own way as well.

Frozen

It wasn't until hours later that Kristoff dared exit the cave and approach the battlefield. He didn't bring the children. He wouldn't, until he knew it was safe. Silently the ice harvester slipped towards it and peered over a ledge… A ledge that for all he knew was the long dead body of some troll of ages passed… He looked down onto the field and his heart broke within him. There was nothing left… Nothing but piles of new rocks, and one in which grew a flower. Gran' Pabbie, he sensed in his heart. He buried his face in the rock and began to cry again. After some moments he lifted his head towards them, tears staining his cheeks, and whispered, "I will avenge you… All of you. I promise."

The wind gently picked up and Kristoff rose, letting it blow his hair and clothes as he gazed on the graveyard in grief. It was once so alive… They gathered there and danced and sang and played… It was so good… Now it was nothing… He remember Gran' Pabbie's words. The troll would go to Arendelle, next. Perhaps even within the next two weeks, or anywhere between that and two years… He would go and the ruler on the throne would fall, and her people would know true terror. He had to do something. He had to stop this _somehow_.

"But I don't know how… Tell me how," he pled to the wind, voice breaking. And what of the troll children? He couldn't leave them in this place unprotected, and they couldn't live in the mountain sanctuary. They needed to be taken care of and protected out in the open. He would bring them back to Arendelle, he decided, though the people would probably have him burned or hung for it. There was great fear of the trolls. They saw them as only monsters and nothing more. He looked up at the sky. Under the cover of darkness, though, he could slip them into the palace. Beyond that? He just didn't know. He needed to talk things over with Anna, but his first priority now was protecting the offspring of his people… Yes, he called them _his_ people… They had to move now, if they were going to make it. Quickly, before he could overthink this, he turned and headed back to gather the children.

Frozen

The grief that had been in the eyes of the little ones as they walked through their home… It had almost broken him… It almost broke him to see them huddle up to rocks they sensed had once been their parents and snuggle them tightly as if doing so would somehow wake them up. As if a parents love for their baby would bring the parent back from the dead… He wished to god that was how it was, but it wasn't. Sven began herding the little ones away, mewling for their parents and fighting not to go. It took a long time, but finally Kristoff and Sven had gotten them in order and started on the march back to Arendelle.

Now they were here in the throne room, looking at a devastated Anna and a stunned Duke of Weselton. Kristoff had just finished telling the tale. The troll babies and children were huddled up near siblings and cousins and friends, all crying together. Anna sobbed, falling back into her throne and burying her face in her hands. The Duke was quiet, expression grim and actually pitying; which was _really_ saying something because he leaned closer to the group of people who saw trolls as monsters. The old man was a stickler and set in his ways, but he had a good heart, and his relationship with Anna and Elsa? It had changed him. For the better.

"There are empty wings of this castle where they can be put up," Kai offered to Kristoff after a moment. He was more inclined to stick them outside, but he doubted troll children would play nice like rock decorations and never move. Someone would see them playing and then riot and panic would break out... They _belonged_ outside, though, it was in their nature. They should be _there_ , free to play in the fresh air and rains. Unfortunately, for now they would have to make due with palace walls.

"They'd be more comfortable in the dungeons. They aren't like you and me. They need dark caves and rocky places," Kristoff said.

Kai inwardly groaned. This was going to be a nightmare. "Very well," the man relented. "I'll bring them there and settle them as well as they can be settled. You… you have a lot to discuss with Princess Anna and the Duke of Weaseltown."

The Duke gave Kai an icy glare, but now wasn't the time to be nitpicky. His daughter was hurting. "Don't be scared, guys. Kai's a good man. He won't hurt you," Kristoff promised the troll children. After some prompting, they finally followed the steward away.

Frozen

There was silence. Anna, crying, sniffed and looked up. "I have to send word to Elsa… I'm in over my head," she said in realization. She couldn't prepare this kingdom for an attack that was doomed to failure. Attack wasn't even the word she should use. Massacre was more like it. It would be a massacre like it was a massacre for the trolls. Since when could mortals stand to fae? But then again, they were resilient… But she didn't dare hold her breath. "I don't know what to do… But Elsa might."

"At this point, it's all that can be done," the Duke stated. "Though… I may have one last trick up my sleeve to offer you."

"What is it? Tell me, please," Anna pled.

"Do you remember the shadow? Do you remember the spell I told you and Elsa about that would let me see who among my people were of that group and who weren't?" the Duke asked. Anna's eyes slowly widened in realization and hope. "Mortal man cannot take on the fae… But perhaps the shadows _will_."

"Hurry," Anna said, nodding.

"I'll be back within the week, my darling," the Duke promised. Gently he kissed Anna's forehead then hurried out to return to his ships and set sail for Weselton. He needed to act fast. God only knew how much time they had before an attack was set against them, and he wouldn't fail his daughters again.

"I'll write to Elsa," Anna said. "I received a message from Moren saying she's on the Southern Isles and that she wants to go back to the battlefield, but he's reluctant to let her."

"Well now she can't. The battlefield's come _here_ ," Kristoff said.

"Something tells me it's a more dangerous one than the threat of Cumberland too," Anna agreed.

"No matter how powerful something is, never disillusion yourself into thinking anything is more dangerous than your fellow people," Kristoff deadpanned.

"You're being cynical again," Anna warned, frowning at him. He cringed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. She went to him. He looked at her. She was gazing into his eyes. "You're not okay," she murmured.

"I just watched my whole family massacred, Anna. I don't think I'll ever be okay again," Kristoff hollowly said. "Now I might lose you too…"

Pain and pity filled her eyes. She couldn't even imagine… She sniffed, wiping her eyes, then stood on tiptoes and kissed him lovingly. "Hey, you won't lose me. We'll be okay. Elsa will come back and she'll deal with this, and the Duke will help too. We're… we're going to be okay…"

 _She didn't even believe her own words. But she hoped **he** would…_

Kristoff smiled sadly and weakly and kissed her again. "I don't think we _will_ be," he answered, pulling back. "Those shadows? They'd better be damn strong."

"They are. _Believe_ me they are," Anna deadpanned, remembering all too well the power the shadows held. Kristoff nodded. She looked at him and nuzzled him gently. "Go lay down. I'll be up to join you soon. I have to write my sister." He nodded brokenly. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered. There was nothing else that could be said. Kristoff drew her near, hugging her tightly and burying his face in her hair. Finally he pulled away, wiping his eyes, and headed up to their room. Anna watched worriedly after him then went to the library to write her letter.

Frozen

 _Dear Elsa,_

 _Something horrible has happened. The wicked hobgoblin escaped his prison, and he took his army of sprites and trolls and attacked the Valley of the Living Rock. They massacred every troll there except for the children, who were hidden away. Kristoff saw it. There was nothing he could do. Now the evil troll threatens to come here. He **will** come here, though I don't know when._

 _I'm afraid, Elsa. I'm over my head in this. Please. Come home. I need you. Our people need you. While I await your return, I intend to arm all of Arendelle's capable men and take a page from the trolls' book, hiding away the city's children somewhere safe. Them and anyone who isn't able to fight. Beyond that I don't know. Sis, what are we going to do? I'm so terrified._

 _Love_

 _Anna_

Frozen

Elsa read the message, heart breaking for the troll children and Kristoff. She knew she needed to go home and defend her land, but Hans and Rhun… She closed her eyes tightly, swallowing. "You've done all you could anymore, Elsa," Moren's voice gently said. She sniffed, looking over at him. "Whatever happens, remember always that you did everything in your power to save them."

"I should have moved faster," she said.

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Moren stated. "Go home, sister. They need you now."

"Promise me you'll keep me updated on everything," she said.

"I will," Moren vowed.

"Okay…" Elsa whispered. "Okay…" She didn't have any other choice. She closed her eyes tightly. She wanted this all to just end… Moren drew her into a gentle hug. She hugged him tightly back, willing away her tears, and looked up at him. "Take care of yourself and your brothers."

"I will," Moren promised. "As well as I can anymore. All that we can spare, we will spare and sent to your aid."

"Thank you," Elsa replied. Though she doubted it would do much good, at least it was something. She drew away from him and went to prepare for her return to Arendelle. She'd been away long enough.

Frozen

Meanwhile, in Weselton, the Duke brought the spell book out of its hiding place and went up to his balcony that overlooked the town square and all his people bustling about… Oh how he dreaded to see how many were gone and shadows, now. For the sake of Anna and Elsa, though, it needed to be done. He couldn't help but smirk to himself. He would become a king of shadows, he joked dryly. Become that which he'd despised not even long ago, looking to magic where once he'd hunted it. For their sake. All for their sake. He drew a deep breath and began to whisper the spell, closing his eyes. When he finished, he opened them slowly. His lips parted. There were so many! Shadows running stalls, shadows with their 'families', shadows of beggars who must have starved on the streets long ago, and so much more.

So many shadows… It terrified him to see, but also brought him such relief. He was terrified because for so long these things had gone undetected under his nose and were too numerous to be comfortable with; he was relieved because the more there were, the more that would come to aid Elsa and Anna in battle. Now was the time to act. He couldn't be afraid anymore. He was too old to be afraid of death now anyway. He entered his throne room, sat on the throne, and recited the spell that would bring them to him.

The shadows were forcibly materialized in front of him with hisses and protests. They looked at the Duke in stunned disbelief. "You didn't think you could hide forever, did you?" the Duke asked. "But don't worry. I don't wish any of you any ill if you don't wish me any. With one spell I could banish you all, you know."

"You threaten us yet claim you have no ill will. What's your game, Duke of Weselton?" a shadow hissed darkly.

"I have a bargain for you. I will give the shadows eternal sanctuary in my kingdom if you will agree to help the rulers of Arendelle in battle," the Duke said.

"We have no interest in mortal battles," a female shadow whispered.

"This is no mortal battle… You will face sprites and trolls corrupted and twisted by the Cursed Mirror crafted ages ago by a hobgoblin. A hybrid sprite and troll," the Duke said to them. Immediately they perked up. So then there would be a challenge… They all began to giggle and laugh and whisper together, and the sound it made... It would haunt the dreams of even the bravest of men... The Duke shuddered in his throne, but kept composed despite wanting to run from there screaming.

"Very well, Dear Duke. It's a bargain," a male shadow finally answered. It turned to the others. "Prepare to go to war!"

"We will show the hybrid and his minions who the _true_ rulers of light and dark are," a feminine shadow stated gleefully, excited. The Duke stayed as calm as possible. He wondered, briefly, if he'd made a grave error, but there was no going back now. For Anna and Elsa's sake, no one else's...


	17. Threats and Mind Games

Threats and Mind Games

(A/N: Haven't edited this as much as I would have liked, but I'm still getting over this ridiculously long flu so mind's a bit hazy. Apologies.)

From the day of the war's beginning, two years had passed by. The wicked troll hadn't acted against Arendelle, not yet. Perhaps it sensed the shadows that now lingered between the kingdom and Weselton, or perhaps it had set its sights on Cumberland and the young princes. It was more likely the latter, because never before had the prince Hans ever been so vulnerable and so close to the mirrors.

Two years. Two years of starving and beatings and torment and humiliation. They hardly knew the meaning of the word freedom anymore, and had long begun to give up hope. Oh the things they had endured at Carr's hands... And were suffering even now…

Frozen

Hans struggled frantically against the soldiers, eyes wide in horror. "Don't, no! Please! Rhun!" he cried out in fear as Carr bound Rhun's wrists to a table. Rhun looked at the jagged knife in horror, knowing immediately what was about to happen. Carr seized two of his fingers and put the knife to them. Slowly he began to cut. Rhun screamed in agony, fighting desperately against his restraints as the man gradually sawed, laughing darkly. Rhun was screaming out pained curses and anguished prayers in Danish, Gaelic, and Doric. Hans sobbed, giving up begging for his brother's sake. Soon the fingers had been carved off, and Carr bound the stumps before releasing Rhun, who held his hand in anguish and thanked his lucky stars it hadn't been his dominant hand they'd been cut from. He whimpered, fighting back tears of pain and clinging tighter to his hand.

"You've endured better than any prisoners I've ever seen before," Carr remarked to them both. "But your suffering has only just begun. If I can get no information from you, you're useless to us you know. Which means I'm free to execute you when I please. If not for the Duke's waif, you two would have been dead long ago." They were silent. Aaron was now fourteen years and six months, give or take. Maybe he was pushing closer to fifteen? They weren't entirely sure. Carr turned to them again. "The Duke is out of patience. He's done playing this game." He turned to the soldiers. "Take them back to their cell. The Duke will see them soon." Quickly the soldiers moved to obey.

Frozen

Hans and Rhun sat silently in the cell, Rhun clutching the injury with eyes tightly shut. He'd never believed he would end up this way… Losing parts of his body didn't sit well with him, for obvious reasons. He'd never thought this would happen... He looked at the bandage again. Carr had cauterized the wounds. At least he wouldn't bleed out, but at this point did it really matter? Their death warrants were going to be signed now. They wouldn't share information on their brothers or the Isles, they couldn't be sent back, the Duke would accept no bargain or ransom, and so at this point they were liabilities to be disposed of.

They heard the door to the dungeons opening and heard the footsteps of who they assumed to be the Duke entering. Soon the man was outside of their cell and it was opened. They looked wearily up at him. They were tired, he saw. Tired, but not broken… But they _would_ be soon… He summed them up in silence, eyes cold. "Now I play my cruellest mind game yet… One of you will live, the other will be executed," he bluntly stated. Both young men paled at these words. What? "It's up to you to decide which of you sees home again and which of you dies… If you haven't chosen, by the time we return, I'll choose _for_ you." With that he turned and left with his soldiers, shutting the doors behind him.

The brothers were silent. Hans curled up, burying his face in his knees. Rhun was silent and still, blinking. One lived and the other died? What kind of sick joke _was_ this? "He can't be serious," Rhun numbly said. "He-he isn't serious!"

"Yes he is…" Hans hollowly answered, looking up again. He was silent. Soon he turned to his brother. "Do you remember the song Loch Lomond, brother?" he questioned. Rhun looked at Hans. How could he forget it? "Mother told me, once, that it was sung in the viewpoint of a soldier who had been taken prisoner with his friend or brother. They were given the choice the Duke has given us now. The one singing had chose, or was chosen, to die. He is therefore telling his friend, or brother, that they'll both go back to Scotland, but he'll go on the 'low road', his body being paraded along the main highway controlled by the enemy forces, whereas his friend, or brother, will have to head for the hilltop pass, taking longer to get back home but returning alive."

"It's one of many potential meanings of the song, yes," Rhun murmured, not liking where this was going. "But far from the only one."

Hans nodded and looked ahead. "Let me be the one to take the low road," he finally said to Rhun after a moment of silence.

Rhun was quiet. "No," he answered. "I won't let you… You have your life ahead of you, Hans. You can return home. Return to _her_ …"

"She's gone… She'll have been gone long ago," Hans answered, holding the pendant in his hand gently. "She would wait for no man… I never wanted a life with her anyway. I'm not…" He trailed off. Not what? In love with her? He didn't even know himself what it was he felt anymore. No. He knew… He felt tired… He couldn't do this anymore… "You have a family to return to. A wife, children… You can't leave them. Not like this."

"I refuse to take the high road without you at my side," Rhun stated firmly. "Forget it."

"Oh for the love of… We can do this all day, but in the end one of us has to die! Let it be me!" Hans insisted.

"I won't see you executed!" Rhun shouted sharply, making Hans jump and look at him in shock, blinking. "I won't see you executed," Rhun repeated in a hiss, fighting back the tickle he felt in his throat that threatened he was on the verge of tears.

Frozen

Hans looked at his brother then turned away, closing his eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore… I'm so tired… For god's sake, let me go. It isn't as if death isn't something I deserve. I've escaped my deserved execution so many times now… Let me go… Let me die for you. Please… I don't want to live like this anymore…" he begged.

"We will both make it," Rhun hissed. "I won't let you go."

"I don't want to live," Hans whispered again.

"Yes you do," Rhun replied. "Some part of you wants to live… Look at her gift to you, Hans. Look at it." Hans sniffed, opening his eyes and gazing at the pendant. "Live on, little brother," the older said. "Live on."

Hans was quiet. Finally he closed his hand over the medallion and shut his eyes. "No," he answered.

Rhun felt his heart drop. There was no talking Hans out of this… But he would see his sibling live if it was the last thing he did… They heard the Duke returning. Hans sniffed and looked up exhaustedly. Rhun watched him quietly then turned to the door again. It opened. Sure enough, the Duke was there again. "Have you chosen?" the man questioned.

"No," Rhun said.

"Yes," Hans stated at the same time. He started and looked accusingly at his brother. Rhun didn't meet his gaze, eyes fixed on the Duke.

"No," Rhun repeated again.

"Let me die, Rhun! Stop trying to protect me! I don't want it anymore!" Hans insisted.

"Shut up!" Rhun snapped sharply at Hans, making him jump back in surprise, eyes widening. Rhun faced the Duke again. "I won't give him to you."

"That isn't your choice anymore," the Duke said. "Seize the boy. Put him in a separate cell from his brother." Rhun shot to his feet, moving in front of Hans and looking ready to rip out the eyes of whoever came close to his sibling. Hans rose swiftly too.

"Stop it!" he ordered Rhun. "Rudi, don't try to protect me!"

The Duke glared murderously at Rhun, then looked to Hans coldly. "Put the boy in a separate cell," he ordered his soldiers again. He turned to Rhun. "If you can't make the decision, I'll return to you presently with my own choice. Until then, get used to being apart from your brother. A pity this is one of the last times you will ever see each other alive again. Once my decision has been made, you'll be put together once more to say your goodbyes." The soldiers moved swiftly, seizing Rhun and pulling him away from Hans, though he struggled. Hans struggled too. For that Rhun was glad. It meant there was some fight left in the youngest after all. With luck, it would be enough. When the Duke came down again, he would tell him he had chosen to be the one to die. Then Hans would live. His brother would live…

Frozen

The Duke locked Rhun in the cell alone and accompanied his soldiers to a cell far from that one, where they thrust the youngest. The Duke glared at Hans coldly, who scowled dangerously at him. "Starve him to death," the man commanded. "If he chooses to die for his brother, so be it. Hans started then visibly relaxed, bowing his head and clutching Elsa's pendant, closing his eyes. His brother would live… He would live…

The Duke headed back with his soldiers and paused outside of Rhun's cell. Rhun was looking down, lost in thought. He looked up on sensing the Duke's presence. "Do you have any further pleas to make?" he asked.

"Let him live," Rhun answered. "I choose to die for my brother."

The Duke was silent. "So be it. Then you die for him. You will be executed in two months' time. Then your brother will be set free," he said.

"You've told him he will die for me, haven't you?" Rhun bluntly said.

The Duke looked at him amusedly. "You're clever," he remarked.

"I'm doubtful when something seems too easy," Rhun replied bluntly. "Who will die?" he asked.

"Soon enough you both will know which of you I chose to set free and which I chose to kill," he answered. There were no more words to say. He walked on and Rhun sank down to the floor, misery in his eyes. Please… please let it be him the Duke chose to kill. Please… He closed his eyes tightly. It felt so empty now, without Hans there…

Frozen

"You did _what_?!" Aaron exclaimed, pale. "Father, you can't! Please!"

"Enough!" the Duke sharply said to his son. "One of them lives, one of them dies. That's it."

"Don't do this, dad, I'm begging you!" Aaron pled.

The Duke glared at his son in annoyance and coldness. After a moment he said, "Do you really want to know my game, Aaron?"

"Game?" Aaron fearfully asked.

"Experiment, is more the word," the Duke answered. Aaron shivered. He didn't like the sound of that term, he decided. Experiments were what Carr did. "They will be made to think the other is dead or going to die. Carr wishes to study the psychological effects it will have on them. I admit curiosity as well."

"That game is too cruel, father," Aaron said. "Don't do this."

"It's already been done… And if I hear you interfered, you will join them in those dungeons," the Duke threatened.

"I would gladly join them in the dungeons," Aaron replied defiantly. "I won't let you play this game!"

"Don't tempt me to send you to a boarding school, boy; because I will," the Duke warned. Aaron stiffened, eyes widening uneasily. From boarding school he wouldn't be able to do anything for either of them, and then papa would start to slip away again and then no one would be buffering him from treating Hans and Rhun worse, and, and… He stopped himself from analyzing the events. Ultimately it would end horribly if he were sent away. He swallowed and bowed his head submissively. "Good," the Duke said. Aaron had lost his appetite now, and listlessly he poked at his food. He wanted them to be set free…

"Why won't you let them go?" he asked weakly.

"They are the enemy. And one _will_ be let go. Tell me, Aaron, which would you rather see live?" the Duke asked.

"I don't want power over life and death," Aaron answered, rising from the table and quickly leaving. He couldn't choose anyway. Actually… He paused at the door and looked back. "Let them go. Have _me_ executed, father. It will torture them every bit as much," he said. Did he believe the Duke would accept his ultimatum? Not on your life… But maybe it would jar the man enough to make him think…

Sure enough, the Duke froze, fork halfway to his mouth, and looked at his son with eyes narrowed. Soon the man put down the fork. "What?" he asked.

"Let me be the one to die," Aaron said, turning around and bowing his head to the man. The Duke was silent. He would get no answer, Aaron realized. Sighing, he turned and left. An answer didn't need to be given for it to be obvious. The answer his father would have given was no. Never.

Frozen

Aaron slipped down into the dungeons. He approached the cell the princes were kept in and peered inside. Hans was gone. Fear filled him. "Rhun, where's Hans?" he asked nervously.

Rhun was quiet. "They moved him to another cell," he soon answered.

"Why?" Aaron asked.

"It's part of the game, Aaron," Rhun said.

"I can sabotage it for you," Aaron offered. "I can tell you how one another is doing and everything."

"No, kiddo. You can't," Rhun replied. "And you shouldn't have to." He looked up. "Don't come down here again, Aaron."

"What? Why?" Aaron asked, visibly hurt.

"Because there's nothing else you can do," Rhun replied. "If you keep coming down, all you'll feel is pain and helplessness… We don't want you to believe for even a second it was your fault or that you could have done more, because you couldn't have."

"But…" Aaron began.

"Goodbye, Aaron. Go. Say goodbye to Hans and return to your dad… If there's anything left that you can do for us, it's to keep wearing your parent down and hoping the mirror loses its hold again," Rhun said.

Aaron looked down, head bowed. "Goodbye," he sadly said. He didn't intend to give up, not yet, but for now he would humor the older prince. He turned, searching the cells for Hans. Soon he found the youngest. "Prince Hans?" he said.

Hans looked up from his place on the floor and softly smiled. "Hey Aaron," he greeted. "I wasn't sure your father would let you down here again."

"He didn't," Aaron said.

"You little sneak," Hans teased. Aaron grinned, but the grin soon fell to a sad frown. "Are you going to send me away too like Rhun did?"

Hans was quiet, looking at him. "We only want it to not be so hard for you," he finally answered. "We don't want you to blame yourself for this and always wonder if you could've done more… We lived this long because of you. The reason your father is even _letting_ one of us go home is because of you. You saved us from this hell. Thank you."

"I saved one of you," Aaron sadly said, head bowed.

"And that was a miracle in itself," Hans said. "Don't beat yourself up over it."

Aaron sniffed, looking at him again. "I don't want you to die," he said.

Hans's eyes softened and he rose, going to the cell and leaning on the bars. "I know it'll be hard, but everything's going to be okay, I promise," he said.

"How can it?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know… And when someone you love dies, it hurts and you never know if it'll ever be okay again. You don't see how it _could_ be… But though the pain's always there, and the memory, it does ease with time," he said. "Don't worry. You're going to be alright."

"I want you and Rhun to be alright too," Aaron said.

"Hey, the whole world is a series of miracles," Hans softly answered. Aaron looked hopefully up at him. "Maybe things will turn out well after all. Just keep working on your dad. You might reach something in him."

"He hasn't gotten any better for so long… It feels like he's just gotten worse. That I'm losing him again," Aaron muttered. "Like it's one step forward and two steps back."

"Then make that one step forward a really big one," Hans teased. "At least then you're still getting somewhere." Aaron smiled up at him weakly. Hans smiled softly back. "Good luck, kiddo," he said. "Goodbye."

Aaron nodded and bowed his head sadly. "Goodbye," he answered in a whisper. Reluctantly he turned and left, head hung low and feet dragging.

Frozen

Aaron sat in his room whittling listlessly. It was one or two in the morning, but he couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried, guilt and sadness eating at him. He was carving figurines of them, the princes. He looked at the figures quietly and closed his eyes. This wasn't fair… There had to be some way to talk his father out of this! He rose swiftly, determined to go to the man, and started towards his door. Just then he heard something jiggling the lock and froze. What? He uneasily moved back and went to his bed swiftly, getting under the covers. He slipped the knife he'd been using to carve under his pillow in case whoever was entering had malicious intensions, and closed his eyes, waiting.

The door creaked open and Aaron uneasily opened an eye. He paled, stiffening. Carr! He drew in a shuddering breath but tried to remain calm. He felt the torturer's eyes on him and braced himself, ready to fight if necessary. The man was crossing the room. Oh god, he felt like he was having a nightmare, but he couldn't be because he could feel how painfully he was digging his fingernails into his hands. What was that man doing here?!

"I know you're awake, Aaron," Carr said. The boy nearly had a heart attack but lay still, trying to feign sleep and probably failing miserably. "You won't interfere this time, boy," Carr continued. He felt the man sit on the side of his bed and almost panicked. He resisted the urge to throw himself out of the bed and run like hell itself was on his heels… Which, given it was Carr, wouldn't be far off from the truth anyway. "You'll stay out of your father and mine's affairs, am I understood?" Aaron said nothing. "Answer me!" the man suddenly roared, seizing the boy and slamming him onto his back, pinning him on the bed.

Aaron screamed in fear and began frantically struggling. "Help! Help!" he shouted desperately. Carr struck him violently with his fist and pulled him up, slamming him against the headboard of his bed. Aaron looked at the man in horror.

"Stay out of this, you little waif! Stay away from them and from your father or so help me you'll never see your daddy again!" Carr threatened.

Aaron was pale. "Murderer! Assassin!" he yelled, hoping the soldiers would hear.

Carr laughed darkly. "Oh child, they're there… But _they_ fear me more than _you_ do. Do you really think they'll come?" he lulled. Aaron whimpered fearfully. "Say it. Say you'll stay out of the way."

"I won't stand down!" Aaron said.

"You will. Otherwise either you're going to wake up one night to find your father's head next to you, or he'll wake up and find yours next to his. Either way the blame will fall on the princes. What do you think happens to them then? There are things much worse than death, Aaron. I'm sure you know that by now," Carr said darkly, pulling the boy back and pinning him on the bed again.

"I-I w-won't cower to you!" Aaron insisted, desperately willing his courage to return. It was in vain. Courage fled swiftly when the torturer forced him roughly over onto his stomach, leaned over him, and put his jagged dagger at the child's neck, pinning him beneath.

"Yes you will," he whispered close to the boy. He suddenly forced Aaron's head down into the pillow and held it there. Aaron tried to scream and frantically struggled. The man was suffocating him! He was on the verge of panic, frantic to escape. His hand desperately grabbed for his knife and closed on it. He swung it back and heard the satisfying sound of Carr's anguished scream. Pressure was released and Aaron pulled his dagger from wherever it had struck, rolling off of the bed and racing for his door. He darted outside of his room, determined to reach his father's. He yelped as he was seized from behind and twisted violently. The soldiers, he realized in dread. They were turning on him for fear of Carr!

"We're sorry, my lord," one said hoarsely as if in shock. What the hell had Carr shown them that had them so horrified?! They turned him around to face the now enraged Carr. Carr was holding his neck. Aaron cursed his luck. He'd never thought he'd regret not striking a killing blow, but oh how he was regretting it now. The knife had just missed the aortic artery. Carr violently drove a fist into Aaron's stomach, making the boy double up in pain with a cry. He fought back frustrated tears and, catching his breath, slowly looked up at Carr, pain in his eyes.

"So this is your final answer, then," Carr remarked to him. Aaron stayed silent. "You will live to regret this, child. You think I can't corrupt your father into believing the worst of you? Perhaps _that_ punishment would be far worse than death for you; his believing you betrayed him? The look of hurt and betrayal, of hatred and failure. Not that you were ever anything more." Aaron drew a shuddering breath, bowing his head low, shivering. "Take him to his father in chains," Carr commanded.

Frozen

The Duke of Cumberland sat on his throne reviewing documents and war reports, expression grim. That the Scotland, the Southern Isles, and their allies hadn't given up yet was beyond belief to him. Oh they were frantic. He darkly chuckled. Good. When one brother was returned dead and the other broken, they would surrender. Beyond doubt they would surrender. Victory would be his finally. The throne room doors were thrown open and the Duke looked up darkly at the unannounced entrance. The dark look, though, turned to one of wide-eyed shock when he saw who entered. Carr and four soldiers. Bound in chains in front of them was a terrified looking Aaron!

The Duke shot to his feet. "What's the meaning of this?!" he immediately demanded, drawing his sword in case this was some attempt at a coup.

"Your child was spotted conspiring with the enemy against my lord the Duke," Carr answered. That, he knew, was something Aaron couldn't deny, because he _had_ had every intention of helping them. Just not against his father in the way Carr could twist it to sound.

"What?" the Duke asked, looking at Aaron in disbelief. "What do you mean by conspiring?"

"To betray you, sir. To the enemy," Carr said.

"No, that isn't true!" Aaron insisted.

"He intended to set them free and let them go home," Carr said. Really Aaron had claimed no such plan, but nor would the boy argue it because it was what he'd wanted to do. In his kind-hearted naivety, he would probably take this opportunity to plead for the princes; but it would only implicate him all the more.

"Aaron?" the Duke asked, looking at his son with eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Aaron, looking up at his dad in disbelief, swallowed back fear and said, "Th-they're good men! They don't deserve this fate, father! I didn't betray you, though, I wouldn't ever betray you, and you know that! _Don't_ you?!" The hurt in the Duke's eyes… Aaron could have withered. But there was uncertainty too! Uncertainty was hope. "Please… Dad, let them go."

"Your little friends would have marched their not-so-little army back here and put your father's head on a pike! And you on the throne. Do you honestly expect your father to be so stupid that he'd believe you didn't see that coming? You ungrateful little wretch. You would have put your father to death!" Carr shot.

"No I wouldn't have! I would have fought and died for him!" Aaron insisted. "If they wanted my father they would have to kill me first!"

Carr turned to the Duke, who now looked uneasy and confused. "My lord, I suggest you go to your mirror room and look to them for the truth. They will reveal your young son's true heart. The darkness is deep within him, I fear. If he is found guilty, then either you purify him or he is put to death."

"I would sooner die than go in that damned room!" Aaron snapped viciously.

"Aaron!" the boy's father exclaimed in shock. He'd never heard his son say such a word before!

"It took you away from me!" Aaron shouted at his parent. "It's taking you away from me still! It's a lie, papa, a lie!"

"Shut up!" Carr viciously barked, striking the boy again. Aaron cried out in pain.

"Carr, get your hands off of him!" the Duke ordered.

"Go to your room and see the truth of what your son is," Carr sneered at the Duke.

"Damn the mirrors! If you touch him again I swear to god I'll lock you in your own dungeons!" the Duke viciously threatened. He turned to his son. The boy looked so afraid… He didn't like to see his son afraid… "Give me my son," he said to Carr coldly. Carr scowled. "I'll go to the mirror room soon enough, but right now you will give me my son and leave."

"Very well," Carr finally, reluctantly, relented. He gestured for the soldiers to let the boy go. They did so gladly. Carr turned and left. They didn't follow him, just took up positions around the room.

Frozen

Aaron, kneeling on the ground and still bound in chains, was fighting back tears as he looked down. He heard footsteps but couldn't bring himself to look up. His father knelt in front of him and took his chin, lifting it so his son would face him. Seeing his father just made the boy want to cry even more than he already felt like doing. He winced with a hiss of pain as his father brushed a thumb over the bruise he knew was forming from Carr's initial punch in his room. "When did this happen?" his father asked.

"Carr broke into my bedroom and assailed me," Aaron answered quietly, looking down again. His father made him look up.

"What did he do?" the Duke darkly questioned.

Aaron's mouth quivered and he drew a shuddering breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but a chill raced up his spine. He felt eyes on him and looked fearfully around. He looked at his father again and answered, "He threatened me. He told me not to interfere in your decreed fate for the princes or he… he'd kill you… or me…" He wouldn't be scared this time. He wouldn't be!

"Why are you so desperate to save those young men?" the Duke darkly asked.

"Because they don't deserve this fate," Aaron answered.

"I decide what they deserve," the Duke darkly warned. "And you _will_ stay away from them, and you _won't_ beg for their lives."

"I _won't_ stay away and I _will_ plead for them," Aaron answered.

"Then you are a traitor to me," the Duke said.

"So execute me!" Aaron snapped challengingly. "I won't back down!"

The Duke started, blinking at his son in surprise. "You've changed, with time… Become so bold… Strong and independent… You certainly have your own mind, don't you…? When did you start to grow up…?" he muttered, tone for a moment almost gentle and loving… Almost like it used to be…

For a moment vulnerability reflected in Aaron's eyes, and he bowed his head. "I won't stop pleading for them," he said.

"Then your room will become your prison cell," the Duke said, rising. Aaron looked fearfully up at him. "Take my son to his room! Lock him in, the windows and doors both. Guards will stand outside of it twenty-four seven. If he tries to escape…" The Duke stopped. If he tried to escape, what? Shoot him? He couldn't order that. "If he tries to escape, capture him alive. If he is killed in the pursuit, whoever killed him dies in vengeance for him… And do _not_ let Carr near my son, or whatever he showed you to make you so terrified of him will be nothing compared to what I do." The soldiers shivered but bowed, taking Aaron and quickly removing him from the throne room.


	18. Unimaginable Cruelty

Unimaginable Cruelty

(A/N: Title refers to both the methods Carr implies, and what he puts the siblings through. And finally you get to learn what the Persian Bath is! Albeit I've toned it down a fair bit from its description in the _Scaphism_ Wikipedia page. If you want the full details, just look that up. Summarized them in a kind of softer way while still hitting most of the points, though. Unfortunately not sure if I'll be able to post a chapter tomorrow, of if one will be ready to go up by them. Have a lot going on today, but with luck I'll be able to post. If not tomorrow or Friday, then Saturday definitely. Busy couple of days. Again, though, hopefully I'll have a chapter ready by tomorrow. If not, sorry.)

The two months crept by agonizingly slowly. Rhun was frantic, pacing back and forth. He cursed for the millionth time, violently kicking the wall of his cell. What was happening to Hans? Surely the Duke hadn't been serious about starving him! He couldn't be. No, no, this wasn't happening. Hans couldn't die! Not for him. Dammit, the boy had the whole of his life in front of him…

He heard the doors to the dungeon open and shot over to his cell door, peering out. The Duke was there! His eyes widened. "Please, let me see my brother! Let me see my brother!" Rhun begged. "My Lord, I'll do anything. He's just a boy! Bring him to me, I'm begging you!"

The Duke looked at the prince in vague surprise. The man was near tears, he saw. For a moment the Duke was silent. After a time a cold and cruel smirk parted his lips that made Rhun shudder.

 _The mirrors… They had taken hold of him again… What did that mean? What had happened to Aaron?!_

"You will see him," the Duke said in a far too accommodating tone that made Rhun shiver. "Whether you'll recognize him is yet to be seen."

 _Oh god… They had starved him!_

Rhun wanted to scream curses at the man and unleash all his pent up fury and rage and pain, but to do so could jeopardize this respite he'd been given. He couldn't afford that. As the Duke began to walk away, Rhun closed his eyes, clenching his teeth, then called, "Where is your son, my lord?!" He heard the Duke freeze. There was no reply. Soon the man began to move away again. Weakness confirmed. At least the Duke still had _some_ semblance of a crack in his armor.

Frozen

Rhun sat against the back wall of his prison, waiting. What if they had decided not to bring Hans after all? What if they brought only a body? Oh god, anything but that, please! He covered his mouth, frantically starting to pray. Damn. He hadn't turned to that for _ages_. The cell opened and he gasped, looking up. There he was! Rhun was as white as a sheet. His baby brother's head was covered by some sort of execution hood. They removed said hood from his sibling and thrust the young man down at Rhun. Rhun leapt across the prison, seizing his brother and dragging him back. He looked down at Hans in horror. He was so pale and gaunt and thin. He was so fragile. His sibling was dying, he realized immediately.

"Hans! Hans, please, look at me! Open your eyes!" he begged. "Oh god, what have you done?!" he shouted at the Duke in anguish. The man was silent and expressionless, arms crossed. Rhun turned back to his brother, drawing him up and resting his head in his lap. "Hans. Hans! Please… oh god, please…"

Hans's eyes weakly flickered, falling on him, for a moment he saw vulnerability. The young man whimpered, pushing closer to his brother and closing his eyes again. Rhun couldn't hold back anymore. He broke down into sobs, drawing his sibling up and holding him close, pressing his head to his chest and rocking the boy gently, softly drawing his fingers through his hair. The Duke's jaw twitched, his body tensing up further. Had Rhun noticed, he would have seen the brief sign of regret and weakness. As it was, the fourth born prince's attention was wholly on his starving sibling.

"Let me be the one to die. Please," Rhun whispered, finally looking at the Duke. "I am begging you with everything I am and every ounce of sincerity and feeling I have left in my body… Let me be the one to die for him."

"No. Rhun, no," Hans barely whispered.

"Hush, little brother. Hush," Rhun soothed.

"I won't let you," Hans whimpered, struggling slightly.

"You aren't in any sort of position to make that call," Rhun answered.

The Duke was quiet. Finally he turned to a soldier. "Bring a large bowl of light soup and some water. As much as you can," he murmured to the man. The soldier bowed and hurried to obey. The Duke turned back to the two siblings. How could two brothers who had once hated each other so intensely become like this? How could go from wanting one another dead, to loving each other so much they were willing to fight for the opportunity to die for one another? What they were willing to do for each other…

 _Once upon a time you would have been willing to do as much for your son… And he is still willing to do as much for you…_

The Duke shifted uneasily before he began to harden himself again, glaring at Rhun. "You truly and desperately want to die for him…" he muttered, mystified.

"Yes," Rhun answered.

The Duke was silent. "Then so be it," he finally answered. "In one week's time, you will be executed in the courtyard."

Rhun looked up at him. "If you follow through with what you claim, then thank you," he whispered. The Duke nodded… But he had no intentions of following through at all. Not for either of them. He had his plans and games.

 _You have Carr's plans and games, and the mirror's…_

He rejected the thought immediately. The soldier returned, bearing a large bowl of soup and a large bowl of water. He went inside of the cell, setting both down. Rhun adjusted Hans, near unconscious, in his arms, and picked up the spoon, carefully starting to feed his brother as slowly as he could make himself go, watching for signs of Hans throwing up. It wasn't unlikely he would. The boy hadn't eaten anything, or very little, for two months. To suddenly have his stomach assailed by food… It wouldn't be easy for him. It could shock his whole body. He had to be very, very careful. When Hans whimpered slightly, he stopped and waited until he was sure the stomach settled before spooning a tiny bit more into Hans's mouth. The Duke locked their cell and left silently. Rhun gently pressed a kiss to Hans's head. Hans opened his eyes, looking helplessly up at his brother, then closed them again weakly and waited to be fed a little more of the light soup.

"You'll be alright, baby brother. You'll be alright," Rhun softly whispered to him, nuzzling his brother. Soon he would be separated from Hans again, he knew, but for tonight, at least, and hopefully tomorrow night, they would be together and he could nurse his brother as tenderly as he possibly could.

Frozen

Aaron sat in his room listlessly, huddled in on himself. Two month's imprisonment were taking their toll on him. He hated feeling so helpless. He wanted to _do_ something. Anything! He fell back on his bed and covered his face. He wanted his father… The door was unlocked and opened. Aaron sat bolt upright, eyes wide in uncertainty. What if it was Carr again? It wasn't. His father was the one who walked in. "Father!" Aaron exclaimed hopefully. The Duke looked at Aaron seriously. Aaron's hope fell to uncertainty, then worry. "Dad?"

"I… witnessed something today that… affected me…" the Duke said.

"Huh?" Aaron asked, confused. "What did you see?"

The Duke looked at his son. "Two brothers… Willing to beg to be the one who died so the other could live…" the Duke remarked.

"They were always willing," Aaron said quietly, looking down.

"The way the older held his dying younger brother in his arms…" the Duke muttered as if in a daze.

Aaron looked up fearfully. "Dying?" he questioned, tone scared. Had Hans been killed?!

"Not dying anymore," the Duke remarked, shaking his head.

"Dad?" Aaron asked, scared.

"He's alive, son," the Duke said with a sigh. "For now. Him and his brother both…" Let Carr play his games. He wanted no part of them anymore. He wanted to forget he'd ever seen the two siblings. He looked at his son. "Let's do something, son."

Aaron lit up hopefully. "Do something?" he asked.

"Together," the Duke stated. "Would you like to go horseback riding, Aaron?"

"Yes. Yes, more than anything!" Aaron quickly answered. The Duke nodded. "At the end of the week, then," the Duke said. So that his son wouldn't be there to witness whatever it was that Carr did to the princes. It was in the torturer's hands, now, which one lived and which one died. The Duke nodded then turned to leave. "Dad?" Aaron said. The Duke paused. "What's my name?" For a long moment the Duke was quiet. He didn't answer this time, swiftly leaving the room. Aaron hung his head, tears threatening his eyes.

One Week Later

Rhun sat silently. He would die today, he knew. Hans didn't… Thank god for that. He looked upwards, closing his eyes. The cell opened and he looked over numbly. Carr was there. "Time to go, Prince of the Southern Isles," the torturer said. Rhun was still. Soon, though, he rose and went to the torturer, glaring dangerously at him. The man smirked coldly and bound the prince's hands in front of him. The soldiers took hold of Rhun and began leading him to the courtyard. The prince looked ahead at the chopping block distastefully. They brought him near to it, where the headsman waited. Rhun looked at the block and closed his eyes, drawing up memories of his wife, his children, his brothers… Tears threatened to spring, but he wouldn't let them. He would die with dignity, if he was to die, with memories of his family in his mind, and the knowledge Hans was safe. They made him kneel. He waited to be put over the chopping block… But instead he felt the ropes binding him cut…

Rhun's eyes opened quickly, looking at his freed wrists then up. Carr was there, smirking cruelly at him. "You're free to go, your highness. Run along home," the torturer said.

The way he said it… A chill shot down Rhun's spine. "What?" he asked.

"You're free to go," Carr repeated.

A sense of panic shot through Rhun, and he leapt up. "Where's my brother?" he demanded immediately. Carr chuckled darkly. "Where's my brother!" Rhun freaked, lunging at him. The soldiers caught him, holding him back from the torturer.

"You know… Only he could have made death by scaphism look semi-dignified," Carr remarked. Horror tore through Rhun. _What_? "You know what scaphism is, don't you? The Boats? The Persian Bath?" Carr purred.

Rhun's knees buckled and he gasped, collapsing. The soldiers, though, held him up. "No… No, you're lying!" Rhun exclaimed.

"He didn't scream or plead. He was happy to suffer it if it meant you lived. He did ask, though, that we give you this, to give back to her," Carr said, withdrawing the pendant Elsa had given Hans. Rhun gazed at it in terror and grief and denial.

 _His brother would not have given that up for the world…_

"Oh god…" Rhun breathed, snatching the pendant into his hand. "Oh god!" he exclaimed, falling to his knees and covering his mouth, looking like he was going to be sick.

"Congratulations on your freedom," Carr said.

Shaking, Rhun looked up at him, hatred and rage and grief in his eyes. "Where is my brother's body?" he demanded. Suddenly he leapt up and went for the torturer again. "Show me a body!" he screamed as the soldiers caught him, just barely, and held him back.

Carr smirked. "What body?" he questioned innocently. Rhun's eyes widened.

 _No… No, no, no, no, no!_

His mouth opened in a silent scream before closing again. He couldn't make a sound. "Don't look at me like that, boy. You wouldn't have wanted to bring it home anyway, given the mess it was in," Carr said. Rhun gave an enraged and grieved scream, tearing free of the soldiers with a surge of adrenaline and leaping at Carr murderously, intent on ripping out the man's throat with his bare hands if at all possible. He tackled the man to the ground and would have broken his neck without even a second thought if a metal rod hadn't struck him across the head. Rhun cried out in pain, collapsing onto to the ground on his stomach, dazed. The shocked Carr staggered quickly up and scowled at Rhun. "Get out of my sight! Be on your way, boy. There's nothing for you here anymore. Freedom was what you wanted anyway."

Rhun broke down. No. No, freedom wasn't what he wanted! He wanted his brother! He wanted Hans! No freedom was worth the price that had been paid for it. He lay still on the ground. Broken. Weeping. If he was free he could leave whenever he pleased, after all, but to move from this positon now would take more power than he possessed in his whole body and heart and soul. This grief he felt, this anguish... It was so, _so_ much bigger than any strength he had to get up off of the ground anymore. He could almost believe he would die here in his grief. He just lay there in mourning, clinging to the pendant tightly and praying for death. The soldiers and Carr left wordlessly.

 _But Earlier That Day..._

Hans's cell opened. The prince exhaustedly opened his eyes. "The time has come, boy," Carr said.

Hans blinked at him and closed his eyes again. Execution, the young prince knew. "I'm waiting," he replied.

"So broken, Chameleon Prince. Did the pendant mean so much to you?" Carr remarked. He had taken it from the prince as he was dying of starvation. Hans had fought to keep it, but in the end he hadn't had the strength. "You had no use for it anyway. It can go to your brother, now, to bring back to the woman when he's set free… Remember, you're buying your brother's freedom…" Hans was quiet. Finally the young prince rose and went to the torturer. "Good boy. It will be sent to her with news of your death." Pain filled Hans's eyes and he bowed his head. "You are broken, aren't you, Traitor Prince?" Carr asked.

"I'll bend until I touch the ground… But I'll never break to you," Hans answered, challengingly looking at the torturer.

Carr scowled, eyes narrowed. "We'll see," he answered, binding the boy's hands in front of him and covering his head with an execution hood.

Hans was led from the prison swiftly and brought into the courtyard. The hood was removed from him and he shook his head, blinking rapidly in the sun. He heard a whinny and squinted over. His eyes widened as he saw a horse nearby, saddled and packing provisions. "What is this?" Hans asked, totally lost. What sort of execution method was going on here?

"You said you would never break," Carr muttered. Hans tensed up at the tone and sharply looked over at the man. He didn't like how this sounded…

"What is this?" he repeated again in a darker tone.

Carr smirked, looking over at Hans. "You should have heard your brother's screams," he muttered to the prince. "The one he elicited when his arm was broken through the wheel was music to my ears. Then the other arm, then each leg. I asked him if he regretted it... He told me that no, he didn't. He told me that he would choose to suffer it over and over and over again if it meant you lived... Then I broke the spine… Oh how he wept and shrieked in his agony…" Carr said. Hans's eyes slowly widened in mounting horror. What was he saying? What was he _saying_?! "His screams died when his ribcage was shattered, but he was still alive. Oh the agony that man could endure… More than fear I saw peace, you know. Peace because he knew you would be free... The execution was completed with my snapping his neck. It broke like a twig. You're free to go, Prince Hans. Congratulations on your newfound liberty."

Hans stood there stunned, unable to comprehend what he'd just heard. "You… he…" he finally managed to breathe. Barely. "Oh my… No… No, you're lying! It isn't true! I was the one who was supposed to die, not him! It was supposed to be me!"

"Yet here you are, living and breathing. And he's a corpse in the morgue," Carr said.

"Liar!" Hans freaked, lunging at the man. The soldiers held him back, though. Carr approached him swiftly, cutting the ropes that tied his hands together.

"Go home, child. His remains will be sent along soon enough. He'll reach home before you, you know," Carr said.

"I'm going to kill you! Come here you" insert the obvious curse here, "coward! Face me!" Hans freaked out, violently struggling to get free. "Where's my brother?! Where is he?! Give me my brother!"

"Your brother is dead!" Carr shot.

"Show me his body!" Hans screamed. "Show it to me!"

Carr smirked cruelly. "When I told you his remains would be sent back, I meant what was left of them… He tasted very nice, you know."

Hans's eyes widened in horror and filled with grief. "No… No, this isn't happening, no!" Hans denied with a sob, shaking his head. "Rudi! Rudi! He's not gone! He's not! No! No, no, no! No," he begged, breaking down.

"Are you broken now, Traitor Prince?" Carr coldly said. Hans didn't answer, continuing to sob. "I thought so," Carr said. "Ride home, boy. Rejoice. You get to return to the woman alive." Hans didn't answer. There was nothing for him to rejoice over… Carr chuckled darkly and left the grieving prince behind. Hans collapsed to his knees, holding his body close as he mourned. Slowly, though, he looked up, body shaking in rage and eyes starting to blaze. Now… _Now_ heads wold roll… Mustering all the power he could, feeding off of rage and grief and all of the masks he had ever worn, the prince rose to his feet. He turned darkly back to the palace. There would be blood bathing the halls tonight. He went to the horse and led it off as if leaving… But leaving was the _last_ thing he intended to do...

Present

Rhun was walking now, aimlessly and listlessly, mind swirling with a thousand different thoughts. Suddenly he stopped. He turned, looking back at the palace and blinked. He looked at the pendant he held in his hand and closed his fist on it, shutting his eyes. When they opened, they were alight with an inferno. A dark scowl crossed his features. They had killed him… They had killed his brother… He wasn't going to walk away from this. Whoever had laid a hand on his sibling would pay. _The Persian Bath… Scaphism..._

He shuddered and felt sick to think of the anguish and humiliation Hans would have suffered. Stripped naked, firmly fastened within the interior space of two narrow boats joined together one on top of the other, forced to ingest milk and honey... They had taken his brother and poured whatever remained of the milk and honey mixture over the rest of his body, paying special attention to eyes, ears, mouth, nose, face, every damned opening on his whole body! They had set him adrift on a stagnant pond to be exposed to the sun and the chilling nights.

 _Defenseless. They left your brother defenseless and humiliated._

Delirium would have set in after only a few days. He would lain naked, covered from head to toe in milk and honey and worse. Insects would have found his baby brother. They would have landed and fed and burrowed and bred within every orifice and on every exposed surface of his body. Death, when it would have finally come, would have been due to a combination of dehydration, starvation, gangrene, and septic shock, oh _god_! God, this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Rhun held his head in his hands, shaking it in denial. This couldn't have happened. No. Not even the Duke could have condoned it. Days of agonizing torment...

 _Days… Days..._

Carr would have kept him alive for days on end in that cesspool and breeding ground! Shaking in rage, Rhun looked up. That offense would not go unpunished… Carr would suffer immeasurably for his crime. He would watch him writhe and extend his suffering and death for as long as humanly possible before finally ending that miserable creature's pathetic life! In fury he started back towards the castle, steps slowly speeding up in anger until he was sprinting top speed.

 _There would be blood tonight…_


	19. You Are the Mirror

You _Are_ the Mirror

(A/N: Sorry for the wait. Like I suspected it was a busy weekend. Here's an extra long chapter for you today, though, to make up with it, and hopefully I'm back on track. Again, I'm sorry for the wait.)

Carr lounged on the currently absent Duke's throne. The man would be back in probably an hour or two. He would be keeping his son away long enough for any bodies to be cleaned up. "Sir, why did you set them both free?" a soldier questioned. He saw no rhyme or reason to it. The two would run into each other either on the road or when they rejoined their brothers, and then what? It seemed more a mercy than anything. In fact, if anyone but Carr had pulled this stunt he would dare believe a mercy was just what it _was_. But Carr _had_ set them free, and so something decidedly did not feel right here. Letting them go like this? If they received anything now it would be a thank you letter and a promise of peace, as far as he could understand, but Carr didn't _want_ peace, so what was his game?

"They won't go back to their brothers," Carr said. "They'll race back, each their own way, and wreak havoc on us in the name of the other."

"I don't understand, sir. It would be smarter of them to return to their brothers and beg _their_ help in avenging the other, not coming back to face us all alone," the soldier said.

"They will come back alone because whether they know it or not, they have a death wish. They promised each other they would not return to their brothers without the other, and so unless victorious, they won't. They will do a good bit of damage while they rampage, though. They'll fall before they find one another, I believe. Or if they find each other, it will only be in time to die together. Two men cannot take on a palace full of soldiers. They will be destroyed in their onslaught, but with them will fall the Duke of Cumberland and his precious child. Whether the Duke and son live or die isn't any concern of mine. As long as the palace is lost to them and taken over by me. Then _he_ will come, and _he_ will decide what happens next."

"He, sir?" the soldier fearfully asked. Carr was speaking of treachery! He wanted to take the first opportunity possible to kill the man before he could act on it. The warrior didn't really want to know who 'he' was, nor did he _want_ to know, but while Carr explained, the torturer would be distracted enough for him to act.

"It's no concern of yours. You won't be alive to see it anyway," Carr replied.

"Sir?" the warrior questioned, tensing up as his hand went to his blade.

"You didn't think you could be left alive after I told you my plot, did you?" Carr asked. The man paled. "Curiosity killed the cat," Carr purred. Suddenly he lunged. The soldier drew his weapon, but all that could be heard, soon enough, were terrified and anguished screams…

Frozen

The Duke and his son rode back in silence. Aaron was inwardly ecstatic his father had taken him riding, but also devastated that the man had said precious little during their outing. He looked at his father, hurt in his eyes. The man hardly seemed to acknowledge him. He looked away again, head bowed slightly. "Thank you for taking me riding, papa," he soon said, trying again to make conversation though the attempt would probably be futile. The longest one they'd had had been maybe a minute tops.

The Duke glanced over at him before turning attention back to the road without saying a word. Aaron winced slightly. Ouch. "You're welcome," the Duke finally answered, and Aaron perked up slightly, smiling almost timidly at the man, hope in his eyes.

"Will we do it again, sir?" Aaron asked.

"Perhaps," his father replied.

Well, at least it wasn't a 'no', Aaron noted. "I love you papa," he said spontaneously, hoping for some kind of reaction.

The Duke was dead silent. You'd almost think he hadn't heard. After a moment, though, he turned to his son and looked at the hope and longing in his eyes. His jaw twitched slightly. Part of him wanted to parrot it back. The other part scoffed at the sentimentality. "I know," he soon answered, and the look of devastation that crossed his son's face… Quickly the Duke looked away and tried to tell himself he hadn't seen it. As long as the boy was corrupted, he couldn't let himself love his son.

Frozen

Carr finished carving up the body, humming as he worked and occasionally pausing long enough to take a piece for a snack. A cold air was felt behind him and he paused, smirking darkly to himself. "Messy," a voice remarked.

"It benefits you and yours in the end," Carr replied to whoever was there.

"It does," the voice confirmed. "Allow me to teleport it from here before you're spotted."

"A kind offer. Accepted," Carr answered, standing and wiping the blood on his hands with a handkerchief. He slipped gloves over them to hide the gore until he could get to a washbasin. The body vanished, presumably teleporting to Carr's chambers.

"You've set it up?" the voice asked.

"They'll charge back guns ablaze to avenge the sibling they believe is lost. Opposite parts of the castle, unlikely they'll run into each other, and very likely to go on a mad killing spree throughout. It's only a matter of time before one or the other stumble into the mirror room," Carr said.

"Be sure it's Hans," the figure said.

"If you insist. Aaron has his uses. He'll make a fine catalyst," Carr said.

"Good. What do you predict?" the figure asked.

"Blood. Lots of it," Carr answered. "I'll divert the Duke to the side of the palace Rhun is besieging. He'll send his precious child to his room, but Aaron will run into me instead. I'll drag him towards that mirror room kicking and screaming. Odds are Hans will hear and come to his rescue. He'll fly into a fit of rage. Be sure, Carabis, that the mirrors and windows are primed."

"They always are," the figure, Carabis, stated. He paused, listening, then smirked. "The princes come. I'll leep them away from each other by any means necessary."

"And if you fail?" Carr bit.

Carabis's expression darkened. "Then I hope that what I've done is enough to take the youngest prince. And if it isn't, he'll suffer another way. I _will_ break him," the evil hobgoblin said.

"Good luck to you, then," Carr answered. Carabis nodded and left.

Frozen

The Duke entered his palace from the door near the stables. His son followed silently, head hung. It was quiet between them. "My lord!" a voice shouted.

The Duke and Aaron stopped, looking up. They saw Carr running up to them looking frantic and flustered. "Carr, what is it?" the Duke demanded.

"The princes of the Southern Isles have escaped and threaten to besiege your palace!" Carr exclaimed. Aaron gasped, tensing up with eyes wide both in hope and fear.

"Two men can't stand against a palace full of soldiers," the Duke answered with a scoff. "Either they'll be killed or recaptured."

"It is a suicide mission, my liege! They look only to take as many lives as possible and yours among those lives," Carr insisted. "They know they'll die. That is why they will be so dangerous. They are screaming murder and vengeance, sir!" As if on cue a scream was heard somewhere towards the right. It was distant, but distinct. More screams were heard and the Duke paled, as did Aaron.

The Duke of Cumberland immediately drew his sword and looked to his son. "Get in your room," he commanded.

"I won't leave you!" Aaron replied.

"Yes you will," the Duke said. "Carr, take him!"

Aaron blanched. "Father, no! Don't make me go with him, please!" he pled. The Duke was already running in the other direction. Aaron, shivering now, turned fearfully to Carr. A cruel smirk had parted the man's lips. Aaron caught his breath and tried to run. Carr lunged with a cruel laugh and leapt onto the child, bringing him down. "Help! Help, someone! Help me!" Aaron shouted frantically, grabbing for his dagger. He hated he wasn't armed with something better. It wasn't like he couldn't take Carr if he had the proper weapons. But he didn't, and so Carr held the upper hand and kept the boy's hands away from the one means of defense he had.

"Your father can't hear you anymore, Aaron," Carr darkly stated. "Now you get to come with _me_. Won't that be fun?"

"I'd sooner die!" Aaron freaked, fighting all the harder. Carr, though, was much more powerful than him, and fully developed on top of it while Aaron was still growing. Viciously Carr seized the boy's head and slammed it violently into the ground. Aaron cried out in pain and lay still, blinking rapidly and trying to get his senses back, but unable to. He was bordering somewhere between unconsciousness and consciousness. He knew all that was happening, but he couldn't get his body to move. Carr picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heading towards the mirror room swiftly. The boy struggled, but he had been knocked silly enough that his efforts were in vain. Carr darkly chuckled. He almost wanted to change his plans, take the boy to the torture room, and hang him on a hook, just to see the miserable waif squirm and scream and cry as he agonizingly died. Well, actually he wouldn't let the boy die, he'd have a good deal of fun with him long before that, but still. Unfortunately, a plan was underway. You didn't throw off the plans of the evil troll king. Pity. It would have been so beautiful to watch Aaron writhe. Such a tender little morsel.

Frozen

Rhun stormed through the guards that were defending the palace from an onslaught. Viciously, without mercy, he cut down the men standing in his way and was glad he'd taken them so off guard. If he hadn't, he would have been dead by now. He cut down a terrified soldier. He felt like he should have some regret, these men had never treated him or Hans badly, but he couldn't bring himself to feel remorse. The image of his brother dying, flesh eaten into and diseased by insects burrowing into his still living body… He saw nothing else but his baby brother's corpse laying between two boats in a stagnant pool. And Carr's words… No body… There wasn't even a body left to bury! He gasped back a sob, cutting another man down in a rage. They would pay. They would all pay! He would see Carr's head on a pike, and if the Duke dared try to stop him, the man would join his torturer. Aaron, though… For a moment some degree of clarity returned. Aaron would protect his father. He cursed that fact. The Duke, then, would live to see a good few days yet. He wouldn't harm that kid.

Finally there was a break in the attack and he darted down the hallway searching for the throne room or any room, really, where the Duke might be. Or Carr. He shot around a corner and slid to a stop, gasping. There in front of him was the Duke of Cumberland! His eyes narrowed immediately. Aaron wasn't in sight. Good. That was probably for the best. He spun his sword. "Get. Out. Of the way," Rhun darkly threatened. The Duke was silent, but drew his own sword. Rhun darkly laughed. "Don't make me scoff, old man! Beat it or die. I'm here for Carr, not you. Unless, of course, you were the one that ordered my brother to be executed like that!"

The Duke's jaw twitched. So the youngest, then, had been chosen. A pity… He would have let Hans live. He had, after all, only been a boy. Though really to call him 'boy' implied innocence. The princes of the Southern Isles… They'd never been innocent. Not truly. They hadn't been allowed to be. They had been jaded as infants and raised in hatred and grief throughout their whole lives. On top of that, their capture and imprisonment in Cumberland would have long ago stripped away any part of them that still felt innocent or good. Here they had suffered. Oh how they'd suffered… "Your brother's death was a mercy," he deadpanned.

Rhun looked like he'd been struck, but in his eyes the Duke saw that the man had long ago realized the same. The fourth born prince covered his mouth and sobbed, looking down and shutting his eyes tightly. He looked up again soon, though, rage flashing brightly. "Get out of the way," he darkly whispered. "His death _could_ have been a mercy… But it wasn't…You think that _psychopath_ you call your torturer would have let him off as easy as a beheading?! You don't know what he did. Good. That means if you cooperate, I spare you."

The Duke tensed up. What was the prince babbling about? "What do you mean?" he questioned suspiciously.

"My baby brother died in anguish and suffering! Death by scaphism! The Persian Bath!" Rhun viciously shouted. The Duke's eyes widened and for the first time horror and appall crossed his features, his mouth dropping. "Get out of the way," Rhun darkly threatened.

 _He's lying to you,_ voices whispered in the Duke's head. Like the mirror was there and he was seeing in it the true state of the world. His eyes narrowed darkly at Rhun. "You're a poor deceiver," he answered, drawing his blade. Rhun started, glaring at the man suspiciously. Something was… not quite right. He didn't care to think on it, though. If it was the mirror's doing, pity. The Duke could have lived a full life. Darkly the prince chuckled and charged the man with a murderous shout!

Frozen

Hans appeared like an apparition. He had killed six before he was even noticed. He prided himself on his sneaking ability. He owed it to his brothers, he hated to admit. After all, if he'd wanted to escape _them_ , damn right he would have had to learn to sneak and hide. For a moment he resented them again, until he heard the crack of a body hitting the ground and the first thing he saw in his imagination was his brother's body being broken through the wheel. Agony filled his eyes and he gagged before breaking into a charge and killing whoever came near him. He seized another sword from a body and began duel wielding, jaw clenched and eyes focused. Every crack, ever loud noise, was another limb that he watched being shattered. He shook his head, closing his eyes and willing the image away, but it wouldn't leave. His brother was dead… His brother was dead and there wasn't even anything left to bury! Viciously he ran a man through with both blades and threw him down. He looked at the unmoving corpse silently. He should feel regret. Shouldn't he feel regret? For a moment fear and vulnerability flickered in his eyes. He should feel regret, he was killing these people without any just reason, but instead… Instead all he felt like doing was smirking or chuckling. He felt… He shuddered, drawing in a shaky breath. He felt like he had the day he'd left Anna to die and nearly murdered Elsa…

"Help!" he heard a terrified voice scream. He quickly turned, eyes wide. That was Aaron's voice! Alarm filled his eyes and he ran towards it.

"Aaron!" Hans shouted. "Aaron, answer me!"

"Hans? Hans, help me!" Aaron called frantically. "He's bringing me to the mirrors!"

Hans started and his eyes narrowed. Oh he didn't think so. Scowling he put on a burst of speed drawing on energy he didn't even know he'd had reserved. Adrenaline and hatred and anger and lust for revenge, he knew, were all that was keeping him on his feet and in a winning position. Where were the mirrors? Where were they, dammit?! He raced passed a hallway but suddenly stopped, feeling an eerie tug. He was still. After a moment he walked back and looked down that hallway. It was quiet… That there were no guards there at all made him uneasy. Aaron shouted for help again, but the boy wouldn't have needed to. Hans sensed in his bones where this hallway went. His eyes narrowed and he tossed aside his misgivings, racing down it.

Frozen

Aaron, struggling viciously, finally threw himself out of Carr's grasp. The man cried out in alarm. Aaron rose and tried to bolt. Furiously Carr started chasing him down. "Come here, you little…" insert four letter word beginning with 's' here. Aaron didn't even look back. Suddenly, though, figures appeared in front of him. He gasped, eyes widening. They looked like guards, but these were guards _he'd_ never seen before. Fear in his eyes, he backed away as they drew their weapons. Suddenly Carr was there and seized him again. Aaron didn't even care at this point. These things he was looking at… They weren't human... He actually found himself drawing back against Carr, because at this point it was one of two unimaginable evils he couldn't even comprehend… But of the two evils, Carr at least was mortal. Aaron paled. Where had 'mortal' come from, he inwardly freaked out. What the hell were these things?!

Suddenly the things screamed in pain and alarm. Aaron gasped, looking passed them. His eyes widened in hope. "Hans!" he exclaimed, seeing the prince. He was cutting through whatever these were as if they were no different than any other opponent, throwing them to the side either dazed or injured enough that they retreated into what seemed like thin air. Hans burst from the small group of soldiers that weren't soldiers. His eyes blazed murderously as he gazed at Carr. Carr, mouth agape, released Aaron and drew his sword. Aaron darted away, running to Hans.

Hans caught the kid in his arms, looking down at him protectively. Lightly he squeezed him then pushed him aside, glaring at Carr. "Go find your father, Aaron," Hans ordered.

"But…" Aaron began.

"There's nothing you can do here anymore, boy. This is between me and the torturer," Hans darkly said. Funny, he noted to himself. Rarely was he the one calling someone else boy. He was usually the one being _called_ boy. Felt strange in a not entirely bad way.

Aaron shuddered, watching Hans. What had happened to make Hans become angry like this? "Hans, what's going on?" he uneasily asked. Pain filled Hans's eyes, and fear prickled through the boy. It had to do with Rhun, Aaron numbly realized.

Hans looked at the Duke's son again. "Go find your dad or go lock yourself in your room," he ordered a second time. Aaron knew that now wasn't time to argue. Uneasily he backed away then turned and ran. Hans darkly looked back at Carr. "Tell me again how my brother screamed," he darkly growled. "Tell me again the order in which you broke his bones!" Carr backed away cautiously. "Tell me!" Hans freaked, lunging. Carr put up his sword instantly to defend, and suddenly more otherworldly soldiers appeared, cackling and giggling, and attacked, swarming in around Hans!

Hans gasped in alarm, anger quickly becoming fear as he realized what he was dealing with. His eyes were wide in terror. The wicked sprites. The evil sprite was here, dammit! They began attacking the prince from every angle, driving him farther and farther back, surrounding him. He gave up trying to get to Carr for the sake of staying alive. They were herding him somewhere, he realized. Forcing him back… And the farther down the hallway he got, the greater the sense of dread that filled him…

Frozen

Aaron raced through the palace as alarmed soldiers scrambled to help wounded comrades or remove the dead. Aaron looked around in fear. Had the princes truly done all of this? Why? Hurt reflected in his eyes. He didn't understand. "Father!" he shouted. "Farther, where are you?!" He ran down a hall and slid to a stop with a gasp. He saw his father there, locked in battle with Rhun! "Dad!" Aaron cried out. Both the Duke and Rhun sharply looked over, eyes narrowed. Rhun started and the Duke became slightly pale.

"Aaron, get out of here!" the Duke ordered.

"Don't interfere, boy," Rhun coldly warned. "I won't hurt him. Too badly. I want Carr!"

"B-but I don't understand. Why?! Why are you killing all these people?!" Aaron pled.

Rhun's jaw twitched as a pang of remorse struck him. "Because they were in the way of me reaching Carr. That man had my brother executed in the most agonizing way that's ever existed!" he finally answered.

"What? But-but Hans is alive! He literally just saved me!" Aaron insisted. Both the Duke and Rhun were visibly flustered by this.

"You're lying," Rhun finally said, voice hardly loud enough to hear.

"No! Unless what I saw was his ghost, he's alive! He stopped Carr from dragging me to the mirror room. He…" Aaron stopped, blinking. If Rhun thought Hans was dead, then the rage and anger in Hans's eyes meant that probably… "He thinks _you're_ dead," he said in realization. Oh that explained so much. He shook his head. "Rhun, he's too close to the mirror room, and weird soldiers I've never seen were appearing from thin air and Carr was backing up away from him and…" Rhun didn't hear any more than that. Violently he shoved the Duke against a wall and shot down the hallway at a speed Aaron had been unaware he could move. In seconds he was gone, and Aaron raced to his father. "Dad, are you okay?" he asked fearfully.

The Duke was silent, eyes wide. He looked at his son. "Go to your room," he said.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?! I can help you!" Aaron insisted.

"Or you can die with me," the Duke said.

"Then I will!" Aaron said.

"You will not!" the Duke viciously ordered. "Get out of here! I told you to go to your room so you damn well go!"

"No!" Aaron answered, blatantly refusing the order. The Duke started, blinking. He scowled viciously and grabbed his child's arm painfully. Aaron yelped in pain as the man violently began wrestling him out of the hallway and towards his room.

Frozen

Hans realized too late where they were backing him. Fear filled his eyes and he tried desperately to break through the wall and run, but he couldn't! He heard Carr darkly laughing somewhere behind him. Desperately Hans fought to keep himself alive and away, but blades were falling from every angle giving him no choice but to fight. Letting his guard down for a moment would mean his life, but then again losing his life was a more preferable choice, he decided, than going into that room. Mind made up, he ducked low and stopped defending himself, instead attempting what was probably a suicide charge out of there. To his surprise, it worked, but not for long. Suddenly a magic blast struck him point blank and he shrieked in agony, doubling over. Another struck him and he flew back, sliding across the ground. His heart raced and he was breathing so quickly he could hardly focus and in fact felt panicked briefly. He willed himself to calm down but couldn't. He shut his eyes, drawing in a shuddering and anguished breath as the pain he was in finally began to register in his mind.

Weakly he rolled over onto his stomach and lifted himself onto hands and knees. He looked over, eyes wide and teeth clenched. His body stiffened. There, approaching him, was the troll king! Hans staggered to his feet and drew his swords again, eying the beast. He stood no chance, he knew, but he would fight anyway, even if it meant death. He wasn't going to be easy prey for this-this _thing_. His breathing was slowing now, and he swallowed. "Give into me, Prince of the Southern Isles. What else is there for you anymore? Your brother is dead. The others will never forgive you for that, you know as much. Like they never forgave you for your sister-in-law's death." Pain filled Hans's eyes to remember Helga, but he narrowed them again, willing the troll not to get into his head. "The woman you love… she's gone. She'd married by now, no doubt. Two years is a long time. She told you she would wait for no man."

"I never loved her!" Hans shot sharply.

"No? Interesting," the troll said.

"You won't get into my head," Hans said.

"Oh my poor boy… I'm already there," the troll said, smirking twistedly. Hans gasped as a sudden pain shot through his eyes and head and heart. He felt woozy and wavered slightly, closing his eyes tight. What he saw struck him to the core.

 _He saw his father and mother so close to each other. The way father was looking at her, the way she was looking at him… The way he gazed at the newborn, the way he interacted with an infant Caleb and Jürgen… He heard the man's vows of love. He saw them on the cliff and heard his father promise his mother that he would love her and his children, all of them, forever. He wanted to reach out and touch the man and see if he could see that he was there. He did, and the king cast a rueful look his way, but whether it was just coincidence or some mnemonic impression he didn't know… He watched the man he despised, and who despised him, risking his life so that his family could escape. He saw… he saw as the chunk of the mirror struck a branch and shattered, the shards striking his father's body._

He gasped, eyes flying open. He had to have been as pale as a ghost. "That's right, little one… Your father was a victim too…" the hobgoblin said. Shakily Hans looked at the troll, hurt and uncertainty in his eyes, and a million different questions that he wanted to pour out to the old king but now would never have the answer to. "He could have loved you. I took it all away. The mirror did. You'll never know the man your father was. He'll forever be the stranger to you, the lie, and I love it," the wicked fae added with a sneer. Hans felt like he'd been stricken with some unexplainable ailment, numbly turning away. The fae suddenly lunged. Hans's eyes widened and he spun to meet it, but too late. The thing tackled him violently, tangling with the prince powerfully. He wrestled with the young man, locking their blades and otherwise manhandling him, forcing him back. Hans fought desperately, but it wasn't enough. They tangled and scrapped and fought, but another magical blast had the prince cry out in pain, throwing his head back. The troll lunged, powerfully shoving him. Carr opened a door and the prince toppled inside. Carr leapt at him, dragging him up, wrestling his arms behind his back, then thrusting him farther into the room!

Frozen

Even before the prince hit the ground on his knees the pain shot through him. Not physical pain, but something inexplicable. He looked up in terror, gasping, and suddenly such anguish was tearing through his body. His heartbeat began to echo in his head loudly, pounding rapidly. Every beat caused another stab of pain to spike through him as if there were something inside of his heart reacting to the presence of the mirrors. And his eyes… They stung like mad. He cried out, prying at them as if doing so would pull whatever was in them out, but he couldn't. He gasped, pale, and looked up and directly into the feature mirror. Whispers and voices began to fill his head, and horrifying images. Images he couldn't even comprehend! Pictures of himself, or something that wasn't him. Or-or was? Was that…? It was him… He paled. This was him, beyond doubt, and he saw reflected in it himself, as always, but it… it wasn't… it wasn't him! But it was. He knew that look. He knew the glare. He knew the flaming eyes filled with no remorse, and he knew the twisted smile, and he knew the treachery and bitterness and murder he saw in the image.

 _He hated mirrors so much…_

It was why he never looked in them if it could be helped. He never looked in them because when he did, he reflected _himself_.

 _Be a mirror, always a mirror. Always reflect, always act, always wear the masks. Without them you suffer. Without them you die. People aren't worth the effort…_

This was him, he numbly realized. This had always been him! He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that that logic was twisted, but it didn't make it any less true! He was and had been and always would be the monster because that's what it took, dammit! It's just what it took! He felt his mind darkening, his vision clouding. He saw himself, now, looking confused and fearful. The image was just his, but… but slowly it was twisting, numbing. Confusion and fear was becoming neutrality and emotionlessness. His shivering was fading, his body starting to calm.

 _Be the mask you wear, be the mirror, what do you owe anyone anyway? Who were you even_ _ **kidding**_ _trying to be anything else? The only one you were lying to was yourself, and it cost you Elsa and it cost you your brother's life, but then really what do you care? It wasn't like Rudi was worth much anyway. Oh those who knew you humored you alright, they hoped, but in the end_ _ **this**_ _is what you are and what you'll always be…_

His eyes… They were becoming emotionless again, dark, expressionless, tired and bitter and filled with hate, but that could be disguised easily enough. It always _had_ been. After all, no one wore masks better than him. He almost laughed. Almost. Maybe he did, because he heard a dark sound and a chuckle like he'd given in the past when betraying. Maybe that was just the mirror echoing the memory of that sound. The agony piercing his breast through his heart, and his head through his eyes, began to cool. He almost mimicked the dark chuckle he'd heard, his expression beginning to turn into one of anger and coldness, but then…

"Hans!" a voice frantically shouted. "Hans!" For a moment clarity returned and fear and hope filled his eyes again as the pain began to come back as if enraged. He hardly felt it now, though. He knew that voice.

"Rhun," he whispered out loud. He could practically feel the evil hobgoblin rage. He cried out in agony as the pain struck him again, full force, and doubled over. Body shaking, he slowly and fearfully looked up at the mirror again. He couldn't move. He knew he should. He _had_ to if he was making it out of this, but… but he couldn't… The mirror's whisperings again, the images all around. He felt like passing out on the ground. He felt like his eyes were already rolling back into his head, but fought the feeling off. He felt like he was going to have some kind of seizure, for god's sake! He realized his mouth was moving silently with the whispers of the mirror.

 _Be the monster, always the monster. I am the monster._ _ **I**_ _am the monster! I am the Traitor Prince. I am the Chameleon. I am the mirror. I am the mirror, I am the mirror! I am the mirror! I… I am the mirror in human form walking the earth…_

He remembered back to when he and Elsa had saved their sibling. Back to when he'd played traitor again. Lars's voice…

 _Could even the shards of the mirror in your eyes and heart have turned you into what we see now?_

Anna's…

 _Or was it hell that spawned you, Hans?_

Hans began to look helpless and lost again.

 _You are a creation. You are the machination of the wicked hobgoblin. Anna was right. You aren't human. You are me, the mirror. You are a shard that was given the ability to walk and talk like a man so that the damage you did was far more extensive than the rest of my shards, and with your help soon enough we will be one again… You were not a child born of human parents. You were an illusion!_

"Hans!" he heard his brother's voice scream frantically. Rhun's form appeared in the mirror, but cruel and ruthless like he was when they were younger. "Hans!" he heard his brother scream again, and winced as memories of being beaten crashed down on him. Memories of sticks falling on him and breaking bones, memories of things thrown at his head. He saw, in the reflection, his brother being seized by the trolls. His brother fighting to get to him.

 _To hurt you. He is fighting to reach you to hurt you!_

Hans drew a shuddering breath.

 _To save you… He is fighting to save you…_

 _Liar! He is fighting to destroy him!_

 _Chameleon Prince, remember what you were, not this lie the mirrors speak to you._

 _The only liar here, Traitor Prince, is_ _ **you**_ _! You for thinking you were ever anything worth keeping alive! You are me, dammit! You are the mirror!_

"Hans!" Rhun screamed.

 _He sees you slipping away. Don't let him see you lost._

 _Let him suffer. Like he let you so often suffer._

Rhun suddenly stabbed whatever was behind him and pulled something from a pocket, throwing it into the room. It rang on the floor, slipping towards the prince and in front of him. His eyes flickered to it and filled with emotion.

 _The pendant… Elsa's pendant…_

He reached out for it.

 _What are you doing? It's a lie like everything else! She could never love a monster! Nor would you want her to, dammit. Hate her! Despise her!_

He took it in his hand, picking it up and lightly tracing it with a finger.

 _Come back…_

Her voice… Damn her voice! He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his teeth. Damn her voice, make it go away… Rhun screamed in pain and Hans's eyes flew open. He spun around and gasped. His sibling had been stabbed! They had his brother on the ground, now. A sword was raised, ready to behead him! Hans leapt to his feet without a second thought and charged blindly from the mirror room, tackling everything going after his brother and cutting them down mercilessly in a frenzy. He didn't know what he was doing. He heard the whispers and screams of fear. Were they his screams or the enemy's, he wondered? He heard the curse of the wicked troll and noticed Carr disappear along with him.

Frozen

Soon the screams stopped, and only then did he stop the onslaught. Dread, though, consumed him, and he cursed over and over while pacing and holding his head. The whispers were still there! He looked to the mirror room. They eased when he went inside. When he gave in the whispers stopped! He blinked then made a run for it.

Suddenly Rhun was up, slamming the door of the room and catching his sibling. Hans viciously tried to fight passed his brother, using his fingers as talons, but Rhun kept his brother from his face and wrestled him back against a wall, forcing him to sit. "Hans! Hans! Stop it! Snap out of it! Hans!" Rhun was shouting. Hans barely registered it, but it was coming through. He looked up at his brother, breathing hard and fast. His eyes were filled with fear and confusion. He cried out, throwing his head back against the wall. The pain in his heart and head, dammit! He was aware he was still throwing his head against the wall, but now Rhun was wrestling to stop him from doing so. "Enough!" Rhun screamed. Hans froze, looking at him. "I said enough, damn you!" Hans blinked blankly. Rhun suddenly sobbed, dragging his brother close. Hans blinked, trying to register the relief he was starting to sense from his brother. Rhun was… was crying? What?

"Rhun?" he finally, uneasily, asked. Rhun held him closer still, continuing to weep. "Rhun, what the hell are you doing?" Hans demanded, shifting. Rhun… Rhun was there. Rhun was… Rhun was alive… His eyes lit up in realization. Rhun was alive! Immediately what was left of confusion faded, breaking down before relief and shock and joy. "You're alive!" he exclaimed suddenly, throwing his arms around his brother, practically tackling him down, and holding him so tightly he was damn sure Rhun was having trouble breathing, given the way he was struggling.

"Dammit, Hans, I can't breathe!" Rhun snapped, shoving his brother off of him. He didn't release his sibling's shoulders, though, instead looking him over. His eyes filled with gratefulness and happiness both. Here was his baby brother, alive in front of him. He was no body or remains like he'd pictured. He wasn't dead! He was here, alive. He hadn't been put in the Boats, he hadn't been executed, he hadn't died.

"Carr said you'd been broken on the wheel," Hans meekly said, voice cracking.

"Broken on the wheel? As agonizing as that sounds, he told _me_ you'd been executed in the Persian Bath," Rhun answered. Hans blinked, startled, and shuddered at the thought as he recalled the description of scaphism the triplets had given him. All at once they were in each other's arms again, holding tight. "I was so afraid you were dead," Rhun whispered. Hans clung tightly back. He didn't have to speak for Rhun to know that he'd been scared too.

Hans suddenly snapped back to himself, alarm filling him. "Where did Carr and the evil troll go?!" he demanded, pushing his brother back.

"I don't know," Rhun said.

"Where are Aaron and his father?!" Hans freaked. Rhun paled. The two were on their feet the next second, tearing through the halls of the palace to try and find Aaron and the Duke of Cumberland.


	20. No Greater Pain, No Greater Loss

No Greater Pain, No Greater Loss

(A/N: Oh I'm going to be so despised for this chapter. I am so sorry.)

Aaron had given up fighting his father and was currently being marched towards his room, put out. As they rounded a corner they froze, startled. Carr stood there, back turned to them. "Carr, how did you get here?" the Duke questioned.

Carr slowly turned to them and summed father and son up. A sense of dread shot through Aaron and he pulled back slightly. Apparently his father was getting misgivings too, because he moved his arm in front of his son, ensuring the boy was behind him. Carr watched them quietly. "You really think you can protect him, my Lord?" Carr asked.

The Duke's eyes narrowed coldly. "Move out of the way. Come near my child, I will have you hung," he said.

"Don't you trust me, sire?" Carr asked.

"Not for a moment. Not with my son," the Duke answered.

"Dad?" Aaron uneasily said.

"Come Aaron, go back to the throne room," the Duke said. That would be the next safest spot for his child. Aaron nodded and turned, walking back. The Duke followed, watching Carr guardedly. He didn't like the idea of turning his back on this man, but he did so nonetheless. He got a bad feeling he'd regret it. When nothing happened, though, he was surprised. He turned once more, suspicious, and started, eyes widening. Carr was no longer there! In his place, though, was a wall of shadowy guards. The Duke quickly reached out, catching his son's shoulder. Aaron looked curiously back then gasped on seeing Carr had vanished, and what was in his place. He whimpered slightly. "Stay close to me," the Duke ordered. "Very, very close." Aaron nodded numbly. He didn't like or trust this. Not one bit.

Frozen

The Duke and son entered the throne room and paused. There were no guards. There was nothing. The Duke's hands tightened on Aaron's shoulders ever so slightly. "What's happening?" Aaron asked uneasily.

"Your little friends may be dooming us," the Duke bitterly deadpanned.

"No they aren't! They wouldn't," Aaron insisted.

"Hush you," the Duke warned, drawing his sword. Nothing seemed right. He wanted to go to the mirror room and hear what they had to say, but he couldn't leave his son, and his son wouldn't go to that place.

"My Lord," a voice said. The Duke's eyes opened wide and he spun around, raising his sword barely in time to block an attack from none other than the torturer!

"Carr!" the Duke exclaimed. "What are you doing?!"

"You've failed to purify the boy. Now it's too late. He'll forever be a monster, sire. I can end that for you, though. I can end him," Carr said.

"It isn't too late!" the Duke snapped viciously.

"And I'm not corrupted!" Aaron insisted. "You've corrupted my father, not me!"

"I haven't corrupted anyone, boy… But something _else_ has," Carr darkly said, smirking.

"Put down your sword or die," the Duke threatened. "My boy is off limits to you!"

"Give me your son!" Carr furiously ordered, swinging at the Duke again. The Duke parried and leapt back, forcing Aaron away from Carr and back towards the throne. Cautiously father and son backed away.

"Dad, I'll go with him. Please, don't," Aaron pled, realizing immediately that Carr would take him or die trying. If it meant killing the Duke, he would do so. The last person Aaron wanted anything to happen to was his father.

"Shut up," the Duke sharply ordered.

"Let me go with him, father! Please!" Aaron pled, seizing his parent's arm to keep him from facing Carr. The Duke roughly knocked him back, making Aaron yelp in pain and fall to the ground. The Duke hardly cared. He turned to face Carr once more and approached him quickly. Aaron, shaking his head, looked up. "Papa, no!" he begged, reaching out for the man. The Duke broke into a charge and Carr charged him right back. The next thing Aaron knew, blades were clashing and the two men were locked in vicious combat. Aaron staggered up and looked around quickly for some form of weapon. There was nothing, so it seemed he would have to make due with his carving knife if things got too bad. He would defend his father no matter the cost…

Frozen

"Were would they have gone?!" Hans demanded.

"The Duke was going to bring Aaron to his room to keep him safe," Rhun answered.

"Then let's get there fast," Hans said, speeding up. Rhun was quiet, focused on the task at hand. They had no idea where anything in this castle was, but they knew where Aaron's room _might_ be, given they could see it from the courtyard whenever they were brought outside to be tortured. If they had to guess, they would say they were heading the right way. They darted down a hallway, throwing open whatever doors they came across that looked important. Finally they reached a locked door at the end of the corridor. Together the two brothers threw their weight into it until finally it gave out. They darted in. Two rooms. Their eyes widened. This must be where Aaron and the Duke's chambers were! They raced to the one that obviously was Aaron's and threw it open.

"Aaron!" Rhun called. They froze, gasping. It was empty! "S**t!" Rhun shouted.

"Where else could they be?!" Hans demanded.

"Where else in a palace is heavily guarded?" Rhun asked.

"The throne room," Hans realized. "Hurry!" Quickly they turned, racing back the way they'd come to try and reach their young friend and his father.

Frozen

The Duke and Carr fought viciously, stumbling through the whole throne room. The Duke had the upper hand. His victory was imminent. Aaron wanted to whoop in delight, grinning widely. "Go dad!" he cheered excitedly. Wow, he hadn't known his father could _fight_ like this. The Duke viciously kicked Carr away and went to impale him, but Carr rolled out of the way and retreated quickly from the Duke, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Get out!" the Duke roared, pointing at the door. "I'll deal with you when this crisis is over and the princes are in my custody again! You will not touch my son. I'll purify him in my own time."

"I'm not corrupted!" Aaron insisted yet again. He knew it would do no good, but maybe at _some_ point something would slip through to his father.

"Silence!" the Duke ordered, sharply looking at Aaron before turning quickly to Carr again. "Get out," he repeated, menacingly advancing slowly and deliberately. Carr began backing away, eyes wide in alarm.

"Now my Lord, can't we discuss this like men?" he questioned, putting on an innocent façade while subtly plotting out his last stand. Suffice it to say he hadn't come against the Duke of Cumberland armed with only a gun.

"I'm through with words," the Duke dangerously said, looking like a predator. Aaron's eyes, however, drifted to Carr. He saw the man reaching for something and paled. "Get out of my…" the Duke began.

"Dad!" Aaron screamed suddenly, seeing Carr grab something. Immediately he shot forward and raced in front of his parent just as the torturer pulled out a harpoon gun he'd concealed beneath his cloak! The man fired without any warning and the deadly missile shot through the air and struck the child in the gut, piercing right through him!

Frozen

The Duke watched, numbed with horror, as his child gave an anguished cry; as the harpoon came out his back from his stomach and glistened with his blood. The man could process nothing else but his son's scream of agony and all the blood. It seemed to all be happening in slow motion. His boy's knees buckled, and Aaron began to fall. "Aaron!" the Duke exclaimed as he found his voice and caught the collapsing child. Carr took the opportunity to turn and run, cursing his luck and cursing the fact he couldn't stay there long enough to watch the child suffer. If he did, though, it would be a death sentence. He was almost home free when the throne room doors were thrown open and Hans and Rhun shot inside. Carr leapt back in terror about five feet and gawked in disbelief.

The Duke lowered his son to the ground fearfully. Aaron was shivering and gasping rapidly for breath, fearfully clutching the harpoon in his stomach. "P-Papa?" he choked out, blood leaking from between his lips. He choked again and spat more out, mouth filled with the stuff.

"Shh, shh, don't talk. Shh," the Duke frantically soothed, panic overwhelming everything else.

 _His wife lying dead. The babe silent, not screaming, not breathing. He'd thought he'd lost them both…_

He looked at his son's injury and paled. Oh god! He gasped, covering his mouth, then quickly looked into the boy's face. "Aaron!" the Duke heard Hans and Rhun cry out together in terror and horror. They looked about ready to run to him before registering Carr was there and putting two and two together. Immediately they went after the torturer, screaming curses at him and damning him to about a million horrible places. The screams of anguish and terror echoed as the brother princes descended on the man who had harmed his child…

"P-papa, it-it h-hurts. I-I'm dying, aren't I?" Aaron choked, though really it was more a gurgle at this point.

"Be quiet, damn you Aaron! Save your strength. Oh god, please, save your strength," the Duke pled, putting pressure on the injury. Around it, rather. The question registered in his head over and over. _I'm dying, aren't I?_ Dying, dying… His baby boy was dying! "Save your strength he pled again through a sob as he leaned over his son, gently placing his forehead against Aaron's and nuzzling.

 _The sounds of swords cleaving flesh echoed in the background. He could hardly hear them. He only wanted to hear his son breathing, his son's heart beating…_

"Dad…" Aaron whimpered fearfully.

"Save your strength," the Duke repeated weakly. He looked at the damage again. "Oh god!" he exclaimed, covering his mouth and shaking his head. "This can't be happening, this can't be happening," he heard himself muttering again and again.

"Father?" Aaron's voice said. The Duke gasped back a sob and looked into his eyes. His father was weeping, Aaron noted. His father was weeping… He wondered. Did the man know he was? "Why are you crying? I-I'm not afraid, papa," Aaron whispered weakly.

"Don't leave me. Oh god, please don't leave me," the Duke begged, drawing his fingers through his child's hair gently as Carr's agonized screams rang out, as a body hit the floor and shrieks continued along with the sounds of chopping weapons. "You can't leave…"

"Don't cry. Please," Aaron pled, voice breaking as tears threatened his own eyes. He didn't like to see father weep. Parents weren't… they weren't supposed to cry… He hated seeing his dad in pain.

"Shh, shh," the Duke gently whispered, softly continuing to comb his fingers through his son's hair. Aaron whimpered, drawing closer to the man and closing his eyes.

 _He felt his baby dying in his arms…_

"I'm sorry… I didn't want to make you sad," Aaron said almost childishly. The Duke shook his head, holding his boy close. He felt something leaving his heart. A dark shadow he hadn't known had been there. He saw a veil he hadn't realized lifting from his eyes. Suddenly things seemed so much clearer. Suddenly the desire to go to the mirrors was gone. Soon the whispers started to fade, drowned out by the grief and sorrow and love that they had for so long tried to supress from his heart, and he saw, then, in chilled disgust and horror, everything that he had done and everything he had become. He gazed into his son's eyes and he saw the truth.

 _It was him that had been gone, not his child… And now his child would be gone forever…_

"What have I done?" he numbly whispered.

"Dad?" Aaron asked, hope filling his eyes.

"What have I done? I'm sorry," the Duke said. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Dad, are you better in the head now?" Aaron asked again, slipping into a childish delirium as his eyes were glazing, dulling, dying. No, no, this couldn't be, no!

The Duke looked at his son, watched as the light was fading. "Yes, my darling… I am seeing again…" But too late. Far, far too late… Why, why, _why_ had this had to be what brought him back?! _Why_?!

"Papa, what's my name?" Aaron whispered, clinging to the man's shirt.

"Your name is Aaron, and you are my only son, my dearest treasure, my life. You are the thing that I love most in this world. You are the baby I would fight and die for. You are the little one I once held at my breast and cherished with my whole soul," the Duke whispered.

Aaron burst into tears, cuddling near his father. Why now? Why now?! Why only now did he get his father back? It wasn't fair! Not for either of them… But his parent held him so tightly, so lovingly and gently… Daddy was free… Dad was free… "I love you," he whispered to his parent, feeling he was drawing his last breaths.

"I love you too… More than anything else," the Duke whispered.

"Aaron! Aaron!" Hans's desperate voice pled as he and Rhun slid next to the Duke and his son. They were bathed in blood, but the Duke hardly registered it beyond a silent cheer. It meant Carr was dead. It meant the man who had taken his child was destroyed forever… But god, the cost! This couldn't be happening. He wasn't losing his son, he wasn't! He couldn't be!

"Aaron, listen to me, you have to hang in, understand? Please, hold on!" Rhun frantically pled. He saw plainly, though, that the child has passed the point of no return. "Please… please hold on…" he begged with a sob. Hans was numb, mouth agape. He could say nothing else. He saw too…

"I can't lose you. Please… Please don't let me lose you," the Duke begged his son softly. Aaron looked adoringly up at his father, then at Hans and Rhun. He smiled at them weakly. Hans's mouth quivered and Rhun covered his own with a sob, closing his eyes tightly. Gently the older brother reached out, combing his fingers through Aaron's hair. Hans reached numbly out as well, fingers resting softly on the boy's neck.

"Don't do this, Aaron. Please," Hans whispered. "Don't do this…"

"I'm sorry… I didn't want to hurt you. Any of you," the child whimpered. His eyes went to his father who was clinging to his hand so, so tightly. Clinging to it like doing so would keep his son here. "I'm glad I saw you again… I'm happy I had my father, even if only for a little while. Goodbye, papa."

"Don't… Aaron, don't! Don't!" the Duke frantically screamed as the child went limp in his arms, eyes glassing over. Eyes open wide and fixed, now, on a roof he couldn't see anymore. "Aaron! Aaron!" the Duke screamed frantically, shaking his son.

 _The baby began to scream. When he had thought the child was lost to him, the baby began to scream and cry. It had come back. It had come back! ...He had to come back again. He_ _ **had**_ _to!_

"Scream. Cry. Wake up," the Duke pled numbly. "Wake up," he begged again, gently thumbing his son's cheek. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," he pled over and over, laying the boy on the ground and laying over top of him.

 _There was no more heartbeat anymore. There was no more breathing…_

Frozen

The Duke broke down, sobbing over his child's body and refusing to let go or be moved. Hans and Rhun watched, numb. Shakily, unsteadily, Hans rose to his feet, looking down in disbelief. This couldn't be happening… This couldn't be happening! "Aaron…" he numbly said again in a whisper. Rhun remained kneeling on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around himself and head bowed low as he silently cried. "Get up," Hans pled, pacing restlessly, eyes fixed on the boy. "Goddammit, get up!" he freaked, suddenly lunging. Rhun, hearing the move, gasped and acted quickly, catching his brother. "Get up, Aaron, please!" Hans begged, struggling desperately against his brother. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening!

"Hans, enough! Stop it!" Rhun begged with a sob. "He's gone!"

"No! No, people like him don't die! Children don't die! They're not supposed to!" Hans freaked, desperately thrashing. Rhun tightened his hold, cursing luck. He had seen signs of PTSD in his brother long ago. Now, though… now nothing held them back, and the boy was rapidly breaking down. All his walls were shaken to their foundations and had collapsed. Every protective barrier and coping mechanism Hans had been utilizing to this point were rendered useless, and in seconds Rhun was holding his brother up as Hans totally and completely broke down mentally, emotionally, and physically all at once. Literally all that held Hans on his feet was Rhun, and Rhun was so close to breaking down with him… So close, but he couldn't. He had to be strong, now. He had to be the pillar for his baby brother… But god how he wished he didn't have to be so he could throw himself to the ground and curse everything that ever existed and ever would and scream and lose control until he passed out. As it was, though, Hans was doing that well enough for both of them. By now his brother would have seriously hurt himself if not for Rhun's interference. Rhun could only hold his brother up and weep with him as Hans went limp in his arms sobbing without restraint…

The Duke, shaking in sorrow and anguish, slowly looked back down at his child's face, clinging to the body. He was broken… Beyond any repair he was broken, and his shaking born of sorrow and grief quickly became shaking in anger. He looked up at Carr's body. At any other time he would have felt sick to see what was done to it, but right now… Right now he wanted to maniacally laugh and dance over the shredded remains. He had been dismembered, mangled, and all that was left was an unidentifiable corpse. The princes had done their jobs well. He looked down at his boy once more, softly tracing his features, and burst into sobs again, falling over the child once more…

Hours Later

Many hours had passed, now. Things had been silent. Whatever threat had been here was gone. Life could be heard in the palace again… No life was heard in the throne room, though. The Duke gazed numbly down at his son's body, now starting to stiffen with rigor mortis. Rhun knelt silently, holding a broken Hans up on his knees so the young man wouldn't collapse onto the ground. Hans had said nothing. He'd hardly even breathed or moved.

"You spoke of an evil hobgoblin," the Duke finally said.

"Yes," Rhun whispered. He had explained the mirror room, in Hans's words, to the Duke in silence when the man, in grief, had demanded to know what had happened to him and why.

The Duke was quiet again. "I will have my revenge on him," the Duke finally said. If he couldn't kill the creature, then at least he would ruin him, his plots and machinations. "I will have my revenge, and when it is done…" When it was done what? He'd move on with his life? No… No… He could never move on with his life anymore. _Aaron_ had been his life… Aaron… Aaron… He felt on the verge of a breakdown again. "When it is done, I will join my son and my wife," he finally whispered. He didn't need to specify for Rhun to understand. The man intended to take his own life. Rudi wanted to argue, to say that wasn't the way, to tell him that it wasn't what his son or wife would want, to tell him that his son had died so he could live and that his taking his life would render Aaron's sacrifice null and voice… But he just didn't have the energy anymore… Besides, perhaps the Duke knew all of that already… Or was beyond caring...

"If you want revenge, war against the evil sprite," Rhun darkly stated.

"Mortals versus Fair Folk? I would doom my nation," the Duke answered. "I may have already…"

Rhun was silent. He knew how right the man was… But the Duke would think of something. He knew he would. "The child will be avenged," Rhun whispered softly.

The Duke was quiet. "Return to your brothers," he finally said to the princes. "And let Scotland know there is no more danger against them for now… I led these people into a war they never should have had to fight… How many lives were lost because of me…?" Rhun said nothing. Telling the man the number would do no one any good. The Duke shakily rose. He hardly could, and nearly fell on top of his son again before composing himself. "I must… I must prepare for my son's burial…"

 _No father should ever have to bury their child…_

"Thank you, my lord," Rhun murmured quietly.

"If… if you wish to be there for his interment… It will happen next week on this day…" the Duke said.

"We will be there. We and our brothers, as many as will come," Rhun promised, gently rocking Hans in his arms on hearing the young man whimper slightly as if on the verge of breaking down again.

"Thank you," the Duke whispered. "He… he loved you and your brother dearly…"

Rhun was silent. He swallowed over a painful lump in his throat. "We loved him too," he finally whispered. Hans sobbed once, going totally limp as if he wished he could die or pass out then and there if only so the pain would stop. The Duke nodded, eyes fixed on his child, then dropped next to him again and lay over the body, holding it close. Rhun rose, pulling Hans with him. "Brother, it's time to go," he softly murmured. Hans said nothing, but suddenly straightened up and walked almost robotically from the room. Rhun watched after him fearfully and followed, deeply concerned for his sibling. Hans was decidedly not in a good mental place. He wanted to be sure the mirrors didn't draw him towards them again. If they did, at this stage he doubted even the pendant would bring Hans back. Hans went numbly to their cellblock and entered. He went to the prison they'd been kept in and came back out with the model boat and Vitruvian Man Aaron had carved for them long ago, safely wrapped up. Rhun let out a strangled whimper, almost breaking down, and shakily reached out, taking his gift into his hands. Tears came, now, and there was no stopping them. He choked back a sob and turned quickly so Hans wouldn't see. Silently, then, the two left the castle and started on the long trip back to camp...

Frozen

When the two princes approached, the whole camp was silent. There was overwhelming quiet as their brothers watched the two, far too thin and pale and weak looking, draw near. Runo gave a strangled cry and snapped out of the stupor, barrelling towards his brothers. He grabbed his twin in a bear hug, picking him up and swinging him around before seizing the youngest too, pulling him just as tightly to himself and weeping shamelessly. The next second Lars and Jürgen were there, sobbing wretchedly as well and gathering their siblings into a hug so tight that neither Rudi or Hans could even breathe. They broke down in the arms of their brothers, and soon all five were huddled close, sobbing in happiness. And in Hans's and Rhun's case, pain and grief as well…


	21. Grief, Trauma, and Fear

Grief, Trauma, and Fear

(A/N: Again, sorry for the wait, but this week has been nuts. That, plus these chapters until near the very end are going to be focusing a lot on inner dialogue and coping, so they're very emotional and it takes time to get them to a level I'm satisfied with. Probably the next few chapters will take a day or two to post as well because again, lot of things involved in making them have an impact. Enjoy.)

Time passed in a blur. Letters were sent home and within days the rest of the siblings were there and the tearful reunion was happening all over again as they wept over one another for relief and love and happiness. Declarations of peace between Scotland and Cumberland, and a summary of all Hans and Rhun had endured, were given. When Moren insisted they return home, however, Hans and Rhun announced their intentions of returning to the palace. Shock was plain on the faces of their brothers, and they were forced to go into detail about Aaron and everything that had happened regarding him. They spoke of his gentleness, his kindness, his protection and help and friendship, and by the end of it both were in tears and the others were listening sympathetically. Without question the king of the Southern Isles agreed to the return, and in fact stated they would all accompany Hans and Rhun.

So there they were. The brothers went on their way to Cumberland, dressed in mourning. There was absolute silence. Neither Hans nor Rhun spoke. None of the others knew what to say to even try to draw them out. Duach looked at his twin, sorrow and helplessness in his eyes. He had always been able to reach Rhun. Even in the darkest times of their lives, they lacked for nothing to say. They were always there for the other. There had never been distance, and now… now he couldn't think of the words to speak for the life of him. Not even casual conversation. He felt… he felt so far away from his twin… He felt like he'd somehow lost him. Him and Hans both. He observed Rhun silently. A whole range of emotions were crossing his sibling's face. Confusion, fear, anger, dismay, mourning, uncertainty, vulnerability, and then anger again. A bitter and resentful sort of anger.

"Rudi, are…" Duach began.

"Don't," Rhun cut off sharply. "Don't," he repeated again, quieter this time. "Right now I am in a very, very bad place Runo. For both our sakes, don't f***ing talk to me." Duach's eyes widened in shock. His brother had just used _that_ word? It was Rhun who usually preached about it being the poor and uneducated man's tongue to use such terms. It was Rhun who usually ended up very literally washing their mouths out with soap whenever he heard one. Duach had been on the receiving end more than once. You'd think he would have been able to overpower his brother, he was bigger and stronger, but nope. Rhun had the 'subdue and wash' technique down to an art. He couldn't keep his stronger siblings pinned long, no, but he kept them pinned long enough for them to get a good mouthful of suds.

"Don't shut me out," Duach replied.

"Don't. Talk," Rhun repeated icily. He didn't want to hear it. Not right now... _Part_ of him wanted to... He wanted to break down and confide in his brother everything. He wanted to dissolve into tears. He just… he couldn't… Fear, maybe? Perhaps he was too broken to try. He looked down at the two missing fingers on his non-dominant hand. A flash of fear crossed his expression and he visibly shivered. He supposed he couldn't really call them missing. The moment Lars had seen the horribly scarred stumps he'd crafted prosthetic replacements and attached them with serious medical know-how; however, those prosthetics weren't real. They were something, but they weren't his flesh and blood, and so he still considered those fingers to be missing. Most of the time he had to take the damn fake's off anyway. They ended up bothering him a lot. Not that three fingers on one hand didn't, but that wasn't the point. Inwardly he sighed. At least Carr hadn't cut off his thumb and index fingers. The torturer had cut off his pinkie and ring fingers, the two most useless ones on a hand. Rhun was willing to bet that that was on the Duke's orders, otherwise Carr _would_ have taken said thumb and index.

He noticed Duach hadn't tried to speak again. He wanted to both laugh and cry. Laugh because he was glad his twin wasn't speaking anymore. Cry because he so badly wanted Runo to try again. And again, and again, and again until he got through… But he didn't… Had they been apart so long that their bond as twins had become this distant and forgotten? Usually they knew exactly what the other needed or wanted or was thinking, and now… Rhun's jaw twitched and he willed away a burning sensation in his eyes. This was for the best anyway, he decided. He started as Duach dropped a hand lightly on his shoulder, and looked over at his brother, eyes reflecting more vulnerability than he'd wanted them to. The look Runo was giving him…

 _Do you see, brother? I know what you need better than you do, and I will give it to you._

A silent communication. Rhun tilted his head then nodded weakly. Gratefully.

 _I know. Thank you._

Hmm, maybe the bond wasn't so lost after all...

Frozen

Kelin-Sel worriedly watched Hans. The youngest was lagging behind, skin pale and eyes… He didn't know. Just… something was so different in them… "Hans, I…" he began, reaching out unexpectedly and touching his brother's arm.

Hans gave a fearful and brief cry, twisting Sitron sharply to the side as if trying to either escape some attack or protect himself. Rhun froze, sharply spinning with eyes wide, protectiveness shooting into overdrive. Hans looked at Kelin-Sel in numb horror, and the look of betrayal in his brother's eyes…

Kelin-Sel, pale and shocked by the reaction, quickly fumbled to correct it. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?!"

Hans stared at him without saying anything, heart pounding but slowly returning to normal as he began to register that nothing was going to hurt him. This time a sudden touch did not mean pain or torture. After a moment he settled down. "I-I'm fine. Just-just kind of… kind of startled me is all," he said. "I-I'm good. Sorry."

"No, no, it's me who should be sorry," Kelin-Sel replied in as soothing a tone as he could manage. "I-I just wanted to ask you something."

"Huh? Oh. Okay?" Hans replied guardedly, raising an eyebrow.

"When will you let her, Elsa, know you're alive?" Kelin-Sel dared ask his youngest brother.

Hans was silent. Totally and completely. In fact Kelin-Sel wondered if he was even breathing for a moment. "Not yet," the youngest prince finally answered. He was in no mental condition to face Elsa right now, he felt. Perhaps he would never be… Let her think he was dead. He felt like becoming that way anyway… To remember that boy… His mouth quivered and gently Kelin-Sel reached out, slowly this time, touching Hans's arm reassuringly. He knew it would do precious little, but at least it was something. Hans tensed slightly at the touch, no doubt traumatic memories, but soon relaxed ever so slightly into it.

Sitron nickered softly, tossing his head slightly, and Hans turned to the horse, smiling gently. "Oh Sitron, I missed you," he said, leaning forward and hugging the horse around his neck. Sitron whinnied, nuzzling Hans. Hans smirked. The moment Sitron had seen him after so long, the stallion had jerked free of the stable hand walking him, charged across the way, leapt the pen, and practically barrelled him over for joy, neighing desperately and nuzzling and licking. Hans had clung to his horse like his life depended on it and gushed over the stallion. He tried to feed Sitron treats, but Sitron had been too excited and happy to take them, instead prancing around whinnying and making a general nuisance of himself to everyone that wasn't Hans. The horse had barely let his master out of his sight since, following him everywhere and only stopping when he was absolutely forbidden entry to some place or other. At that point he would sit or lay outside of the tent until Hans returned, then quickly get up and nuzzle him again.

Frozen

Kelin-Sel watched quietly as Hans and Sitron rode a little ahead again. He couldn't bring himself to smile. He was so worried for his brothers… Justic rode up alongside him, tiredly observing Hans and Rhun, the latter of which, on hearing Hans's cry, had taken to almost obsessively watching over him and hadn't removed his eyes from Hans since. "We've lost them, haven't we?" Kelin-Sel weakly asked.

Justic was quiet. "We've lost… part of them," he answered. "They'll never be the same. You knew that from the start."

"I know. I just… I didn't expect…" Kelin-Sel trailed off on hearing his voice hitch.

Gently Justic reached out, putting his hand behind his little brother's head and pulling him near, gently bumping their foreheads together. "I know," he said. Kelin-Sel didn't have to explain what he didn't know how to explain. "We all feel it," he added. Justic looked ahead. It seemed the triplets were among those who felt it the worst. They had been uncharacteristically quiet, and were constantly watching Rhun and Hans and observing in confusion, wishing they knew what to do but _not_ knowing. "In time they'll get better. At least a little. Just… never totally…." He wouldn't admit it, but he was especially concerned for Hans. Hans had done many horrible things in his past, the murdering - or in father's words 'execution' - of innocents not least among them, but back then he'd been wearing mask over mask over mask. Now that those masks had been pulled down one by one… Justic shook his head. All of his baby brother's sins and crimes were coming back to haunt the youngest, he knew. All the deaths Hans had witnessed and all the lives he'd taken in this war were now added onto the blood already staining his hands. On top of that the torture and Aaron and the mirror… Something wasn't right. It was… it was like Hans was dangerously close to slipping back on the masks again, because without them the youngest just didn't know how to cope. More, he didn't _want_ to cope. He wanted to hide. He wanted to be the mask, be the mirror, be everything and anything that would conceal him from pain, but it had _never_ concealed him from pain! He'd always felt the pain, just… just buried it away… Now it was all coming out again from days come and gone and from present and possibly future…

"Is he broken?" Iscawin suddenly asked Justic. Justic's jaw twitched and he swallowed over a lump in his throat. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"He will bend until he touches the ground, he will crack, but he will never break," Coth suddenly said, looking back at Iscawin.

"He _did_ break, though… When that monster threatened Elsa," Iscawin pointed out, recalling that detail of the story with blood boiling.

"That wasn't breaking, brother. That was the crack Coth spoke of. Really I think Hans was buying time, but still," Calcas said.

"Right. He told Carr what he wanted to hear, not anything of importance regarding us or the Isles, and it was enough to distract Carr from what should have been his objective," Connyn stated. "I'm not saying Hans would never break, I don't share Coth's opinion there, but if he ever _does_ happen to break, it won't be easily."

"It won't be ever," Calcas darkly stated. "No one is touching our baby brother like that again. Or Rhun, or any of us."

"A sentimental promise, but not one we can necessarily keep," Justic said more pragmatically.

"Shove it, Justic," Connyn said, frowning at his sibling. "We don't need your pragmatism here."

"I was just saying!" Justic defended.

"Well don't," Coth bit. Justic frowned at him then sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes but letting it go.

At the Funeral

It was dark, it was decorated in black, solemn chants were being sung as the ceremony was being given. The Duke sat on his throne, as white as a ghost and looking near death. It didn't take much to guess he hadn't eaten since the day his son had died. He looked gaunt and sickly, now. A mourning fast, more likely than not. It would go for more days still. His eyes were fixed on the body of his child laying so still in the coffin, wrapped in white linin. His throat tightened and he tried to swallow back a sob, but he couldn't. As the lid was put down, he lost his composure, covering his mouth and beginning to weep. He held onto control as well as he could, but though you couldn't hear the sobs anymore, say for the initial one, you could see the way his shoulders shook. You could see the tears slipping down his cheeks.

He had ordered the mirror room sealed up. He didn't want to risk anyone smashing them or the windows or ever going in that room again. Or even down that hallway. The whole thing had been boarded. Bricked, actually. There was no access to that wing anymore. He lamented for whoever would one day discover the hidden chamber and fall prey to its machinations. He looked up, finally finding the strength to open his eyes. He saw the princes of the Southern Isles. He wished their king would draw his sword and cut him down without question, but there was no sign of hostility. Bitterness and resentment, yes, and some distrust, but the king himself was stoic, and he kept a cap on his siblings. Hans and Rhun… Rhun was silently crying. Hans was no longer looking, back turned to the scene and eyes shut. He seemed to be wavering, like he was near to fainting. Oh to be in the youngest prince's place. Fainting would be so blissful. No more feeling, no more knowing, no more seeing…

The procession moved out into the family cemetery. The Duke walked alongside the coffin, hand resting on it and tears flowing freely. He wanted to touch his son again, to feel him in his arms. He wanted to hear his baby's heart beating. He would give anything, even his own life in exchange, if it meant Aaron could live again. He would do anything… He wanted to feel his child's warm cheek. He wanted to draw him close and never let go. He wanted to tell him again and again how dearly he loved him. He wanted to erase time so that the mirrors had never come. So that he could have been the father his son _deserved_!

 _Why… Why couldn't I protect him…? A father should be able to protect their child…_

The coffin lowering into the ground… He wanted to jump in after it. He wanted to fall on his sword and be buried with his little one, his arms wrapped around Aaron tightly.

 _I will be with you soon enough, little treasure… You and your mother both…_

He heard the King of the Southern Isles come up beside him as the dirt was being shoveled over the grave. "Kill me," he heard himself whisper to the man.

The King tensed up. Soon he turned to him. "I will not stop you from going to death," he finally answered. "It would be unimaginably cruel of me to let you linger on in this pain… But though I will not stop you, I won't take your life either. Besides, there is still a matter of vengeance that needs to be carried out… You must make the creature who took your child from you suffer…"

"He did," the Duke darkly replied.

 _Hans and Rhun had seen immediately there was nothing to be done to save the boy. Grief overwhelmed, but on seeing Carr, grief was matched in passion by hatred. Perhaps even surpassed. They descended on the torturer like locusts, screaming bloody murder. Hans delivered the first blow, slicing the man's arm so deeply he almost severed it. Almost, but Carr had moved back in time to avoid losing it. The next blow was Rhun's. Rhun slashed a cut in Carr's body that went from collar to navel. The third was also Rhun's, and with it he cut the torturer open so that his insides were all but spilling out. Carr, in fact, was holding them inside his body, and by then there was nothing but pure terror in the man's expression._

 _The fourth and fifth blows were Hans's to deliver. With them he severed the rest of one arm and drove the blade through the man's groin, carrying out what amounted to a neutering. Rhun drove his own sword up through the man's lower back and out the chest. Hans had continued the dismembering bit, throwing the man down and chopping off one leg, then the other, and whilst he dismembered and butchered, Rhun stabbed madly over and over and over again, wild with rage and hatred and vengeance. They had continued their brutalizing until barely anything was left of the remains to be identified…_

"Carr was a puppet, no more and no less," Moren said, breaking the Duke from his thoughts. "What you want is the puppeteer."

"I should have died instead," the Duke whispered, gazing down at the now filled grave.

"What should have happened isn't what did," Moren said. "And now we need your help. If you help, you will have your revenge."

The Duke, watching the grave, soon fell to his knees on top of it, clutching the dirt and closing his eyes tightly. He began to sob again, louder this time. As soon as he could get a hold of himself, he looked up at Moren. "Tell me what to do," he answered. Moren nodded.

Frozen

Hans and Rhun listened in utter horror to the tale Moren was telling. The trolls in the Valley of the Living Rock massacred. All that was left were the children. Arendelle was in danger, the most it had ever been in, and helpless against such power. Elsa's magic could have defended her land from an army, but not when that army was all but mortal… Moren spoke of the Duke of Weselton and his using the spell to see shadows. He told of their willingness to help in exchange for the Duke's granting them protection in his land.

"And now we, freed from this war, can act for them as well… But we will not be enough… Not even Mael," Moren finally finished.

The Duke of Cumberland was silent a long moment. Finally he answered, "I will help… "I will speak to the Fairy Queen, and she in turn will speak to the Queen of Sprites. Then, if that still doesn't seem enough, sail for Scotland or Ireland and find the Standing Stones, the Menhir. Try to contact the elven folk. Fae versus fae is what must happen for victory here."

"Dealing with the Fair Folk is a major risk. They can't be trusted, none of them. They're as likely to stab you in the back as help you. Or do both!" Rhun protested.

"They will say both no and yes," Jürgen muttered, looking up ponderously. "This hobgoblin is the child of the Queen of Sprites. She will give no condition. Or if there _is_ one, it will be small. She in turn will ensure the Fairy Queen stays true, though I've heard tale this Fairy Queen is good and merciful, and not at all inclined to trickery or clauses."

"And the elves?" Calcas challenged.

"A calculated risk," the Duke replied for Jürgen. "It's give or take whether we find them at all anyway. Or any of the potential allies we've talked of, for that matter… But I have a way… A gift was owed to my wife, one the Fairy Queen promised to her when my beloved rescued her… She would have asked for a child, she told me… Before she did, though, she became pregnant with… with Aaron… She never collected on the gift. I will bring her necklace and wedding ring. She and the Fairy Queen were friends. We do not need to fear trickery from any of the fae say for perhaps the elves."

"Make it so," Moren agreed, nodding. He for his part would do all in his power to try and find the elves, though he didn't hold out hope. The menhir and the dolman were supposedly gateways to their realms, or ways to find them, those and Fairy Circles; but if they didn't want to be found, they wouldn't be… Though perhaps mention of the cursed mirror would draw them out after all…

"Where's Hans?" a worried Rhun suddenly asked, sharply looking around. The others started and began searching as well. Concern quickly filled their eyes. Where _was_ he?!

Duach suddenly blanched. "He wouldn't have… he wouldn't have gone to that room, would he?!" he demanded. The others caught their breath, eyes widening.

"It's been bricked shut, that whole wing," the Duke said.

"Better safe than sorry. "Connyn, Coth, Rudi, Runo, let's go. Fast!" Calcas said, quickly racing out of the throne room. The others he had named followed swiftly and fearfully to scour that general area and make sure Hans wouldn't pull a stupid stunt like that.

"The rest of you with me!" Jurgen said to the others. Quickly grouping up, they raced from the grand hall to search the palace and the grounds.

"I will send out a search party. King Moren, you aren't going with your brothers?" the Duke asked.

Moren was quiet. Finally he turned to the man and replied, "I don't need to. Save your men. I know where he went." Or at least he had a pretty good idea. The Duke nodded in agreement. Caleb bowed to him and the Duke bowed back. As gracefully as he could while heavily relying on a cane, Moren left the throne room to seek out his baby brother.

Frozen

Hans, having long ago slipped out of the grand hall, had retreated quickly back to the graveyard and sat in front of the fresh grave, eyes fixed on it almost like he was waiting for the boy to dig himself back out of there. What if he had been buried alive? What if he was okay? In the back of his mind he knew that thought was stupid. The child was gone… No, no, he couldn't be gone! He wasn't!

He heard footsteps approaching from behind and shook his head frantically. "Children don't die. They just don't. No, no, children don't die… He'll dig his way out. He'll be okay. Children… He had his whole life ahead of him! He should be sitting with his father speaking of the day's events. He should be training with him, spending time with him, loving him. Dammit, children don't die, they just _don't_!" he desperately said.

Moren sighed softly and sat down next to his brother, wincing slightly in pain but doing his best to mask from the youngest how sore he was. Finally getting semi comfortable, he looked at the headstone quietly. "They do. Often," he finally answered. "And it is unfair, and it is cruel, and no one should ever have to suffer it… but they die… Everything dies…"

"No!" Hans protested, though he knew how naïve and childish that might have sounded. "Children… children don't die…"

"They shouldn't," Moren corrected.

"He-he was so good and kind. He was so young! He-he could have been something. Could have made a difference! People… people like him shouldn't… they shouldn't have to die… It's people like me who should be killed, Caleb, not people like him! Why couldn't I have been slaughtered instead?!" Moren was silent. It wasn't a question he was meant to answer. It was Hans trying to work through things. He needed to let his brother rant, no matter how little it made sense. "People like him shouldn't die…" Hans said in barely a whisper.

"But they do," Moren answered after waiting a moment to see if Hans would continue.

"Why?" Hans whispered.

"Because life is unpredictable and hard and cruel," Moren stated.

"Mom, dad, Aaron…" Hans muttered half to himself and half to Moren.

"When did you begin to care about father?" Moren dryly asked, almost scoffing but refraining.

Hans was quiet. Finally he turned to his brother. "Since I learned the truth," he answered.

Moren's eyes widened slightly. "The-the truth? What do you mean the truth?" he guardedly asked.

Hans looked into his brother's eyes. For a long time there was quiet. Finally, though, Hans answered, "Father was a good man… Like others have always said he was… Or could be… Father was a good man… And then he wasn't…"

"Hans, what do you mean?!" Moren sharply asked, now on high alert.

Hans turned back to the grave. After a moment he replied, "When the others are here, I'll let you know. All of you. Just… right now I need to be alone."

Caleb was quiet, considering whether or not to push for more. Soon he decided against it and simply nodded. "Very well," he said. He looked back at the grave then at Hans once more. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"What are you afraid I'll do?" Hans asked with a scoff.

"You will come, Hans," Caleb seriously replied. "Let's get going." Hans, silent at first, soon numbly nodded and rose, following his brother back towards the palace.

Frozen

The others listened in stunned shock and denial as Hans told them of what the evil hobgoblin had confessed to him about their father. When he finished, there was silence. "No," Runo finally said. "No, that's not true! It can't be! That man would beat us to unconsciousness for god's sake!"

"That man threatened me into trying to kill you!" Iscawin agreed, looking even more desperate to not believe this than Duach.

"That man would send his own sons to the dungeons to be tortured if they let him down," Mael numbly stated. Rhun and Hans both visibly shuddered at the mention of the word. "Sorry," Lars said, cringing on realizing his slipup.

"That man… He couldn't… He wouldn't even protect us or try! He cheered it, if anything. He wasn't a good man! Not ever!" Kelin-Sel insisted.

"Yes he was," Caleb whispered. They turned to him. "It's a vague memory… A vague memory of… of a man who threw himself over his eldest child to save him, and was struck by… by something… Something that took him away and put him in the doctor's hands. Something that… that changed him?" It was so blurry, but he remembered, now, that there had been goodness in the man. Goodness that every so often hinted at being there before disappearing again.

The others were dead silent, trying to process this. "I was the one who slowly poisoned him," Coth whispered suddenly, a hint of horror in his voice. The others were silent, unfazed. They knew _one_ of them had. Moren had known…

"Why didn't you tell us?" Connyn finally asked. "At least me and Calcas!"

"Because… Because if I was found out, I didn't want you two to be executed for high treason with me," Coth answered. The other two triplets were silent before hugging their sibling lightly with one arm each.

"Brother, we would have died with you anyway, fighting to protect or free you," Calcas said. Coth closed his eyes, swallowing over a sudden lump in his throat that he hated.

"I could have stopped you," Caleb said. "More than once you were on the verge of being found out and I diverted attention elsewhere… I could have stopped you… But I didn't. I didn't because I wanted him gone too…" Now, to learn _this_... he regretted it. Well, in part. If father hadn't died before Hans had returned, Hans would for certain have been executed, no questions asked, and so for that reason alone he didn't regret his parent's death, but still...

"It doesn't matter anyway. It's done," Jürgen murmured quietly, head hung. "And now… Now I just want to go home…"

"Not half as badly as me or Hans do," Rhun muttered.

Hans was quiet. Some tiny part of him wanted to go home, yes… An even bigger part of him, though, wanted to go to Arendelle… But why bother? She had said she would wait for no man. Two years was a long time to wait.

 _No it isn't._

Yes… Yes it was… For a young man or woman, yes it was… She would have moved on by now, he knew. She could have any man in the world. It wasn't like he even wanted to be the one she chose anyway. They were just... They were intimate friends, and yes he loved her, but it wasn't... It wasn't romantic love, was it? Would there have been benefits if he'd married her? Yes. He could live without those benefits, though. Besides, the idea of returning to her in this condition… He was hardly in a mental place to _function_ , for god's sake… And the more he found himself thinking of Aaron, the farther he felt himself falling. Had the true impact of this even struck him yet? No, he knew. No, it hadn't… Nor would it be able to until this was all over or until he felt safe again…

One Week Later

The ships of the Southern Isles were sailing for home. It wouldn't be long before they were gone again, sailing for Arendelle. The Duke of Cumberland would meet them in that place, and the troll king would find a challenge unlike anything he'd ever suspected. The Duke intended to send word to the Fairy Queen very soon, now. Once he could function well enough to, that was. Hans stood at the bow of his ship, looking silently ahead, and a puzzled frown crossed his face. He turned his head towards the sun, and his expression became one of longing.

 _The Southern Isles ahead, Arendelle towards the east… Which one will you go to, young Prince?_

Sanity wise it was probably best to go home. Though he hated that place with a passion - or rather, he had once hated it when he had hated his brothers, and had since come to at least like it again - his going to Arendelle could put the last nail in the coffin. Especially if… if she was what?

 _Married._

No! Dammit, no! He didn't care if she had married again. For the first time, he meant! He cursed his mental slip. If she had married, then good on Edvard or whoever the hell would have had her.

 _ **Anyone** would have her. At least anyone who sees her gift as just that, a gift and not a curse._

The question alone was starting to drive him mad. What had become of her, after she was freed from the Duke? He had to know. He turned to his crew. "Change your course! We sail for Arendelle immediately!" The crew looked at him, shocked, but quickly scrambled to obey. Sharply the boat broke away from the others.

Rhun and Jürgen, both of whose ships were closest, started at the change, watching after Hans in shock. "Where the hell is he going?!" Jürgen shouted over to Rhun, whose ship was alongside his.

Rhun, quiet, soon turned to him. "He's going to her!" he called.

Jürgen started and watched after Hans worriedly. "Dammit, boy, you'd damn well better know what you're doing," he murmured to himself as he watched after Hans. None of them had any clue if Elsa was still single or not. Or if she was even okay. No word had come from Arendelle for a very long time, now. It would be as much a surprise to them as it would be to Hans. He hoped the surprise was one worth finding. Rhun, meanwhile, turned and went directly to his cabin. He sat down and quickly scribbled out a letter:

 _Dear Elsa,_

 _Did you ever expect to hear from us again, I wonder? I doubt it highly. Not even_ _ **we**_ _really knew if we would ever see the light of day again. I wish I knew what to say, how to greet you and present this news joyfully, but as it is I find myself still overwhelmed. Even here in my cabin it feels like the prison again, and I need to get back outside on the deck, but this needs to be sent._

 _Hans and I have been freed. It is a long story, and devastating. Hans will no doubt speak to you about it. God knows he won't speak to us. There's… still a long way to go for us all. He sails for Arendelle even as this letter is being written. It will, of course, arrive before Hans does, which is probably for the best so you and your sister don't die from shock of seeing him again. He looks very different from when last you laid eyes on him, it is only fair I warn you of such so his condition does not stun you. Pale, thin, sickly, gaunt… He was starved, not long ago. They planned to starve him to death before the Duke of Cumberland took pity on me, but that is all a story not meant for letter. My brother's mental condition is perhaps worse than his physical. He will be a handful, likely. Unless, of course, he chooses to shut down, which he more likely than not will. He always tends to conceal not feel. Do not push him to speak, if he doesn't want to. Prompt, but do not push lest you set him off. He is in a very precarious and dangerous position._

 _Take care of my brother, Elsa. Please… I cannot lost him again… Why I say 'again', you will soon know, I feel. I hope. I do not want Hans to shut down, but expect no opening up for a few days at least. We may very well soon join him in Arendelle. We have won you more allies and defense against the sprite, my lady. Take my advice and prepare a hidden stronghold for your people. When the time nears, hide them there. All of them. There is no telling if this battle will be easy won or not. It all depends I suppose._

 _I have missed you dearly, sister. You and Anna both. Now I return to my family who long have thought me dead... Oh to hold my children again, and my wife..._

 _Until I see you again,_

 _Rhun_


	22. A Reunion Long Overdue

A Reunion Long Overdue

The early morning was damp and cold. Mist rose eerily from the ocean and the land. Hans looked towards the palace in the distance. He turned his gaze to the docks and he stood straight and tall on seeing a figure standing there. The figure of a woman who looked for all the world like some ghostly vision, beautiful and powerful. He could believe, in that moment, that nothing could ever touch her unless by her bidding and longing and will.

 _I want to_ _ **be**_ _your bidding and longing and will…_

She watched silently from the dock as the boat approached, standing regal and tall and stoic. She drew a breath, willing herself to be calm and dignified despite so much of her wanting to run out over the ocean, board the boat, and throw her arms around him. That decidedly wouldn't do. That was how Anna would act, not her. She was more reserved than that. Such actions were the fantasy of a girl, not the pride of a woman.

 _Two years… He had been in captivity two years…_

He would be twenty-six now, she inwardly calculated. Or twenty-five and about three quarters of the way to twenty-six. She saw him standing in the bow, dignified and immovable… Just as she stood now…

 _We are each other's reflection, in some abstract and opposite sense…_

She held her arms around her loosely, eyes fixed on the approaching ship. Soon it pulled up and docked. She watched him in silence. So dangerous and cold… So confusing and complicated that it drove her out of her mind to try and understand what he was…

 _He is. That is all. He just is… And he is there, and he is alive, and you are his and you know it, though you wish you didn't. Though you still deny and insist you don't know what love is, you do, though you don't recognize that you do… And you are his…You have been for a long time now._

He was first to walk off the ship, though walk really wasn't the word. More glide. A stealth tactic, no doubt, that he probably didn't even _realize_ was so deeply ingrained in him. He disembarked and stopped at the foot off the gangplank, looking at her for a brief moment before moving towards her once again. Again he stopped, just in front of her, and they stood facing each other quietly. The distant tolling of the ship yard's bells echoed in the distance, and the sounds of seabirds and waves. There was silence.

Frozen

He appraised her quietly. She had grown, he noted. Not in stature, of course, but in form. Less a girl, more a woman. Her face seemed older, somehow. Not changed in appearance much, but the look in her eyes… Less young and sheltered, more grown and experienced. For a moment he dreaded what it was she saw in _him_. Goodness knew how different he appeared. He hadn't looked in a mirror since… since the mirror room… Nor did he intend to anytime soon if it could be at all helped.

She took him in quietly. What she saw was a man. There had never been innocence in his eyes, she noted to herself suddenly. She hadn't noticed before. There had never been innocence, and yet somehow he seemed more jaded than ever before… tired… world-weary… There had once been flickers of mischievousness and boyish fancy and light. There were times she would even liken him to a bratty younger sibling to his brothers. Now there was… there was nothing… Just fatigue… She wanted to see his eyes light up again… He was so pale and thin… He looked too old for his young age, though admittedly the more matured look had its appeal.

"I waited for you," she suddenly said. "Right here… Every night for two years…"

He looked at her in silent wonder. "I thought you said you would wait for no man," he soon replied.

She met his eyes quietly. A surge of anger shot through her and she almost wanted to slap him. Suddenly she moved, but it wasn't to strike. She fell into his arms and held him tightly, resting her head against his chest. "There are always exceptions to the rules," she answered. He looked down at the woman in his arms, awed, then drew her nearer to him, burying his face in her hair and gently stroking it. As slowly it dawned on him that this was real and not a dream, he closed his eyes tightly and pulled her closer still to his body, so close there was no room between them and she couldn't have pulled away if she'd tried. She never _wanted_ to try.

"For memory of you I stayed alive and sane," he said to her barely audibly.

Tears burned in her eyes, and in his. One slipped out, sliding down her cheek and drying on his uniform. She hated it, the clothes he wore. They meant war. They meant he would leave. They meant he might die. The two drew back from one another slightly, though he still held her near. Her hands rested gently on his chest as she looked woefully up at him. "The moment you can, you're taking that damn uniform off," she said in a breaking whisper, fists tightening on his shirt as his hands rested on her waist lightly. "You aren't going _anywhere_. Never again for as long as I can help it."

A smirk dared part his lips. It had been a long time since one had come. It felt so foreign… God he felt so old… He moved forward and pressed his lips softly to her forehead, and then once to each eyelid. She trembled. Once and very briefly, but had trembled nonetheless… The thought that she could ever tremble in his arms for anything but fear or hatred… He hadn't thought it possible… He never wanted to let her go _again_ …

"Come with me," she whispered against his chin, and it was _his_ turn to tremble, grip tightening ever so subtly.

"I am yours," he whispered in response. He almost did a double take. He almost added 'to command' before he decided she didn't need the specification.

 _Before you decided that for once you wouldn't hide and deceive yourself or her anymore. You are hers… In every sense of the word and in every way you are hers… And you_ _ **can't**_ _be. You just_ _ **can't**_ _… She is your weakness, and there can be no weakness. Not for the princes of the Southern Isles. Not for_ _ **you**_ _. There can be no weakness… Run, young man. Run as fast and far as you can, because you know… you know that if you stay, everything ends. There can be no future with her. Men like you are not blessed. Men like you don't reap the rewards. Men like you do not deserve this. Any of it. Not life, not love, not peace, no forgiveness. Monsters like you… monsters like you are nothing… You belong to her, but you can't. There are no happily ever afters. Run. Run. Run… She is drawing you along… Run…_

But he didn't… Not yet… He would, soon enough, he couldn't stay; just not yet. He let her lead him. She entwined her fingers in his and leaned against his shoulder. He rested his head on hers and in that moment he felt content and at peace.

 _Monsters, like you should not feel content and at peace…_

Frozen

In the room she gave him to stay, he stripped off his uniform like it was poison and threw it to the side. He never wanted to look at it again, but he knew that was too much to ask. He stripped off his undergarments in annoyance. A bath had been drawn. Thank god. He wanted to soak in it and forget everything that had happened. He turned and froze, stiffening. There was a mirror standing there, full length. He looked at himself dead silent. He was unable to recognize the reflection… He never could… He reached out, touching the face lightly.

 _You see me… You see parts of me returning. You were set back, but you still see me… You still see who you once were. Who you could have been…_

Gently he traced the features. He didn't recognize himself… With a disgusted scoff he turned the mirror around so he didn't have to look at it. For extra measure he threw a blanket over it and turned his back. He hated mirrors. His arms folded in front of him, he looked towards the tub. He went to it and slipped into the water, leaning back and closing his eyes. When he did he saw images of war and death and of Aaron, and with a gasp his eyes flew open and he was still. Would those images never leave? Lethargically he looked at the window in front of him silently.

 _I want to die…_

He grimaced at the thought, looking away from the windows quickly. Time to focus on other things. He began washing himself and desperately fighting back the memories and sounds of dying men, and shrieks of anguished children.

 _The smell of blood and smoke and carrion…_

He desperately willed that scent away, seizing a rose from a nearby vase and breathing its scent in frantically. Soon the senses stopped and again he felt calm. It wouldn't last long, that peace, but at least for now it was here. He would go and join Elsa at breakfast, and Kristoff and Anna and Olaf, and things would seem… He cut off that train of thought immediately.

 _She has become too much your weakness. Get away._

He was silent. He rose from the tub, after quickly washing his hair, and dried off swiftly before throwing on a fresh change of clothes and gathering the old ones. Free… He was free… It still felt so strange… He wished he could enjoy it, but had he ever really been free? Him or any of his brothers? If it wasn't a physical prison, it was an emotional one. If it wasn't an emotional one, it was a prison of the mind. Freedom was an illusion, he decided. Bitterly he shook his head. It was an illusion, and he needed to get out of this castle desperately, and away from… from her… Tonight he would go. He would stay one day beside her, but no more than that. Set in his resolve, he went down to breakfast.

Frozen

The feel of his arms around her still lingered as she prepared for breakfast. The feel of his lips against her forehead and her eyelids… She felt them as much as she felt his arms… She hated that she did. The sensation… It was so wrong yet right at the same time… She noticed she'd stopped getting ready and shook her head, trying to snap out of the thoughts. She cleared her throat and finished putting on her earrings. She finished her hair in a quick up-do then rose to head down to breakfast. The knowledge he would be there… It had no right to fluster her and make her recheck everything she'd done a second time. Satisfied, she turned and left to join her family. And Hans! Hans wasn't family. She left to join her family and Hans.

The four sat around the table. Five, counting Olaf, but the poor little snowman felt very out of place. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. He said atmosphere because it wasn't exactly tension, but it certainly wasn't something that could be ignored either. Awkwardness and suspicion, most likely. Neither were very good. He should probably go hangout with Sven and Sitron. "Um, I think I'm going to go," Olaf said.

"Why?" Anna asked.

"Um, because… because I have a hair appointment soon! Bye," Olaf said, quickly getting up and shuffling out.

"Hair appointment? He doesn't even _have_ hair. Technically," Anna confusedly said.

"Isn't it obvious why he left? You can cut the atmosphere at this table with a knife," Kristoff said. Elsa face-palmed. Hans gave Kristoff an incredulous look. Did he _really_ have to point that out? They'd all felt the feeling in the air, even Anna, but now that attention was brought to it, they couldn't ignore it. Not that they'd been doing great at ignoring it in the _first_ place, but still! With luck, no one would pursue the subject.

"Hey Hans, can you pass the…" Anna began, but the sudden words made the prince jump in his seat and snap his head around to face her so fast that she jumped in turn, almost afraid he'd attack her in self-defence against some imaginary adversary. "Sorry," she sheepishly said, blushing.

"It's fine," Hans answered curtly, passing over everything that was in his reach and not in Anna's, just so he didn't have to pursue more conversation. Of course, shutting himself down from everyone was probably the epitome of stupidity for someone in his mental place. He couldn't help it, though! He'd always been good at self-soothing anyway. Why should now be any different? He realized, suddenly, that he'd hardly even touched his food. The bites he'd taken had been small and insignificant. Either he was still mentally rationing his food because of some leftover trauma from imprisonment, or he felt lost. Probably a mix of both. "I… I would like to be excused. I… I need to go to my room and… I don't even know… Sleep. I… I'm not feeling too well…" He wanted to sleep alright. Sleep and never wake up.

Concern filled Elsa's eyes, but it was apparent she wasn't sure how to handle him in his current state. He couldn't blame her. _He_ didn't even know how to handle himself in this state. "Very well," the queen agreed.

"Please sent meals up to me. I won't be able to… I don't think I can handle…" he began before trailing off, not sure how to explain himself.

"Say no more," Kristoff deadpanned. He recognized the state Hans was in. It was the one he'd been in for _months_ after the slaughter of his family. Nothing appealed to him, he could hardly bring himself to be around people or look up. He just wanted the world to end and for him to go with it. He just wanted to be left alone. Nothing made him happy. Not food, not friends, not Sven…Not even Anna's embrace… He'd just wanted to shut down and cry forever… It seemed what Rhun had briefly alluded to in Elsa's letter, and claimed Hans would speak more of, would continue to be unspoken. Kristoff made a mental note to keep an eye on Hans. That prince wasn't going anywhere before they got some answers. Bad, bad things had happened to him. Horrible, in fact. Unimaginable… But this wasn't just that. This was also a look of mourning. Something had been lost. Something Hans had cared for deeply. He logged his questions away for later. Maybe during the evening or night Hans would be more susceptible to talking.

"Thank you," the prince said, rising. "I'll see no one tonight. Don't let anyone come to disturb me."

"If you wish," Elsa answered, nodding. Hans nodded back then quickly left.

"We're not going to let him alone, right?" Anna worriedly asked. Wow. She'd never thought in a million years she could ever feel worry for Hans again… Here she was, though; and she was _very_ worried.

"I'll watch over him," Kristoff promised.

"Thank you Kristoff," Elsa gratefully replied. She couldn't imagine how it felt for the prince to suddenly be around people again living something of a normal life instead of… of imprisonment and torture. She wondered how many scars he had now, after two years of abuse. She hoped none, she knew that was impossible. She almost dreaded to learn the answer to that question.

"The Duke of Weselton is arriving tomorrow evening. Erik and Francis will be here in the morning," Anna said. Elsa looked gratefully at her sister, glad for the distraction from her thoughts. Thoughts were dangerous right now, she decided.

"We'll prepare for them all today, then," Elsa answered. Anna nodded agreement.

 _Evening_

The prince hadn't left his room since the morning. Concerned, Elsa had sent both Kai and Gerda to check on him every so often. She understood very well that the mental place he was in was very, very dangerous, and the last thing she wanted was for him to hurt himself in any way.

Meanwhile, Hans was quickly realizing that isolating himself had probably been the worst choice he could have ever made. The problem was he couldn't bring himself to care. The room was dark. The light… it had just been too much. For two reasons, actually. One because being in the dungeon for so long had made him feel almost vampiric about the light, and two because he'd probably had more spiced mead—what kind of name was 'mead' for a drink anyway?—than he should have. Which was saying something because he absolutely despised the stuff with a passion. Or pretty well any alcohol for that matter. Which again brought up the question of how he'd managed to stomach enough of it to feel tipsy and fuzzy in the head.

He spun the liquid around in the glass sullenly. Hmm, seemed he was more like Franz than he ever cared to admit. He grimaced at the thought and promptly downed the glass before deciding he could probably manage to exercise more self-control than his brother in regards to alcohol. Probably for the best too, because he wasn't exactly a heavyweight when it came to the drink. Dealing with grief, denial, and trauma with alcohol or some sort of drug was the stupidest thing he could possibly do. He looked at the bottle of mead next to him warily and lifted it. Empty? This marked the second one he'd emptied! Definitely time to stop. At least the bottles were small… Medium sized… He looked out the window. It was dark now. Time to leave, he determined. With luck he could slip out undetected enough. He stood and wavered slightly, feeling dizzy and sick and almost stumbling before catching his balance. Note to self, avoid talking to anyone lest they notice signs of his inebriation that he didn't.

Silently he gathered his things and opened up the door of his room. If any of Elsa's little spies were out there he could come up with some lie or excuse to get them gone for a bit. Dammit he was tired of lies… He looked around. Neither Kai nor Gerda were in sight. Good. He took a breath and stepped out of the room, shutting it behind him. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone until the morning. Or at least for a few hours. Checking around one final time, he decided it was safe to sneak off and quickly turned to leave, doing just that.

Frozen

Kristoff, in the stables, was settling Sven in for the night when he heard a door open. He frowned, looking back, and started. Hans was there, looking around guardedly. He was trying to sneak out, Kristoff immediately knew. Swiftly he got out of sight and observed the prince warily. Hans came towards the stables and unlocked Sitron's stall. The horse snorted, nuzzling him. "Shh, boy, shh," Hans soothed, stroking the stallion's nose. Sitron fell silent. Hans led it out, looking around warily, then nimbly mounted the horse and headed towards the docks. He was running, Kristoff realized in surprise. Why? He guessed he'd soon find out. As soon as it was safe to, he quickly unlocked Sven's stall and mounted him, riding after the prince.

Hans soon reached the docks and dismounted Sitron. He took the stallion's reins and led him towards his ship. "Where do you think you're going, Hans?" Kristoff suddenly said from behind.

Hans tensed up and turned, eyes narrowed guardedly. "You need to leave," he said to the ice harvester. "Don't get in my way."

"Why are you running?" Kristoff asked.

"Because…" Hans began. He trailed off. "Because I can't stay," he finished.

"Why?" Kristoff asked.

"It's none of your business, okay?! I just have to go," Hans sharply snapped.

Kristoff approached him and frowned. "Have you been drinking?" he asked.

Hans blinked blankly and flushed, looking down. "What of it?" he asked coldly. "I haven't gotten drunk. Yet. Just… buzzed."

Kristoff looked incredulous, summing him up. Well, he was speaking fluidly, more or less, and walking more or less straight, so apparently the alcohol hadn't hit him too bad yet. "There's something you're not telling us," he soon said to the prince. "Something that happened to you there in Cumberland. And I don't mean the torture."

Hans was silent. Almost statuesque. "Go. Home," he finally answered in a chillingly stoic voice. "Now."

"No," Kristoff replied, frowning.

"Don't think I've fallen so far away from the masks that I can't put them on again, Ice Harvester. I _will_ kill you," Hans threatened evenly.

"You're drunk," Kristoff nipped. Hans wasn't, of course, but accusing him of being so might divert Hans's attention from the sword his hand was hovering over now.

"I am not!" Hans immediately protested.

"What happened there, Hans?!" Kristoff demanded.

"He died!" Hans shouted.

Kristoff blinked blankly, surprised. "Rhun?" he asked, concern coming to his eyes.

"No. _God_ no," Hans said, holding his head in his hands and coming dangerously close to whimpering at the thought of his brother dead. He drew a breath and looked at Kristoff again, expression exhausted. "A boy. Hardly fifteen… His name…" His voice broke and he had to stop, closing his eyes and composing himself. Eyes opening again, he continued, "His name was Aaron… He… He helped us. Protected us. Defended and fed us, gave us water, kept us alive. He… He was the Duke's only son, and he became… he became so dear to us… Like a brother. Or…" He trailed off again. "Or a child…" he finally added.

"Hans…" Kristoff began, stunned. "I…"

"Don't," Hans said, putting up his hand. He didn't want to hear sympathies. Sympathies wouldn't bring Aaron back. "He…" The prince stopped suddenly, finding he couldn't speak. Suddenly he sobbed, covering his mouth and closing his eyes tightly, shaking his head in denial. This couldn't be happening. None of it. "Children don't die!" he finally managed to gasp out through the tears. "Boys like him shouldn't die! Monsters like _me_ should be killed, not innocent children as good as that!"

Kristoff watched in silence, pain and empathy in his eyes. He knew immediately that Hans was in no condition to go anywhere. Right now he was in a mental place where he just wanted to run. Run from everything. Keep moving, keep going, keep fleeing in the hopes that somehow it would help things feel better or he could outrun the past. But he couldn't. He would only get himself killed. He wouldn't let Hans go. He went to the prince cautiously and reached out, touching his shoulder. Hans looked up, despair plainly reflected in his face so openly that it took Kristoff aback. It was so rare he saw full emotion in the prince, because so often Hans wore masks that at least blocked some of it out. Now, though, nothing was hiding the emotion and anguish, and a change like that… It was more than he ever expected.

"I wore that look on my face not even long ago," Kristoff said gently, and Hans's body tensed up recalling all they'd heard of the fate of the trolls. He bowed his head, looking away from the other. He had nothing to say to that. Kristoff had watched the entirety of his family, say for the children, slaughtered. He had seen the life of one boy cut short… But was it really only one boy…? That one boy was foremost, but he had seen and been the bringer of death to so many besides Aaron. Fear, anguish, terror… All emotions he had watched and shown no mercy towards. He realized, then, how close he had been to becoming that evil hobgoblin… How close he might _still_ be… And it frightened him… "You're coming back to the palace with me," Kristoff said.

"I can't," Hans answered.

"You have to," Kristoff said. "You can't go. Not in this state. You need to stay."

"I can't!" Hans insisted again almost desperately. He couldn't be where she was, dammit! He _couldn't_ be!

"You will," Kristoff replied. "Look, lock yourself in your room if you have to, or in some abandoned wing of it, but you're not leaving here, okay? You're not!"

"Is there any place in town besides inns that I can stay?" Hans asked.

Kristoff was totally lost. "Why are you so desperate to avoid the palace?" he questioned.

"I just am, Kristoff! Please!" Hans pled.

Kristoff looked at him blankly then sighed. "Okay. Fine. I have a place. Kind of haven't been there in a while, though, so it's not exactly in a clean state."

"A bachelor's house is fine. I may be royalty, but I'm still a guy," he said. Which really wasn't even an argument that made sense, but at this point he wanted to act like he was just 'one of the guys' so that maybe Kristoff would feel more comfortable with his staying in the wretched little hovel the ice harvester was implying his home was. He wouldn't criticize, he determined. Or would try not to. He could act like the man's man Kristoff seemed to be. Besides, it would prove the ice harvester wrong in the belief that Hans was a pampered, prissy, prince. Yeah… Kristoff didn't have high opinions of royalty. At least not masculine royalty. He'd only ever really interacted with Elsa and Anna when it came to that matter. He hadn't thought much of them _either_ before he'd gotten to know them. A lot of the common people seemed to have low opinions of royals these days that were growing more and more as time passed. Humph. There were always critics.

Kristoff sighed in frustration, drawing his fingers through his hair. "You're getting to be real high maintenance, you know," he said.

"Back off ice man," Hans coldly said, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes warningly at the other.

"Sorry. Alright. Let's go," Kristoff relented. Better Hans stay at his place than go out on the sea and be left to go wild. The place he was in right now wouldn't bode well for that. Hans nodded and followed Kristoff as Kristoff headed to his place in the town.


	23. Help and Unity at the Height of Despair

Help and Unity at the Height of Despair

(A/N: And this is about the lowest point Hans has hit so far since Aaron's death, so he'd kind of in a self-destructive spiral right up to the end of the chapter. Does a lot of dumb and careless things, but can't tell much more without spoiling the whole chapter. It was two chapters, at first, but then I just combined them together. They were both shot and dealing with the same thing, so yeah. Enjoy.)

Kristoff walked through the halls of the palace looking troubled. Last night Hans had insisted he go back to Anna. Not liking the idea of leaving the prince alone with hours on hours of alone time in which to think and brood, especially when there were weapons both in the house and on the guy's person, Kristoff had refused. Just in case Hans was intending any permanent harm to himself. Hans was adamant he leave, but Kristoff was stubborn in his resolve to stay. About midnight Kristoff realized Hans hadn't been asking him to leave so he could try and off himself. Hans had been asking him to leave so that Kristoff wouldn't be disturbed when the young heir woke with a cry of abject terror and become so panicked he had to be forcibly held down to ensure he didn't hurt himself. Of course, holding him down only made things worse because in his delusion—Kristoff assumed he was still partially stuck in whatever nightmare he'd been having—he was screaming something about the torture room, mercy, and the child, Aaron.

When Hans stopped struggling it wasn't much better. Instead he was sobbing and begging for the boy to be spared until Kristoff had finally managed to shake him fully awake. At which point Hans had become deathly quiet and hadn't spoken again, or slept, for the rest of the night. It was… actually kind of really, really terrifying to sit there in the room and watch the prince watching him. He wasn't leaving Hans alone after that dream, though. If there hadn't been thoughts of suicide before, there definitely had been after. More than once, when Kristoff had dozed off and then awakened, he'd seen Hans fiddling with his dagger in the dark. When he'd told Hans to put it away, Hans had obeyed in silence. That happened about three times. On the forth, he woke up to see Hans standing and looking at him, dagger in hand, and nearly had a panic attack _himself_. It was like some horror scene. It took him a moment to realize Hans wasn't in fact looking at him, but was looking at the opposite wall. Which, if possible, had been even creepier. After that incident _he_ hadn't gotten any sleep _either_.

"Kristoff?" a voice asked. Elsa.

Kristoff stopped and turned. "Elsa, what's up?" he asked, frowning in concern. It was rare his sister-in-law came to him about things.

She hesitated, rubbing her arms, then looked at him again. "Where is Prince Hans?" she asked.

Kristoff blinked then looked down. "He… needed time… alone… Away from here…" he answered.

"Why?" she asked.

"I… I'm not sure… He wouldn't say. All I know is that… that he's in a very bad place right now. He's mourning… someone… It's not my place to tell you who, it's his, but… but he's not doing okay… If anything it's hurting him worse than the trauma he's suffering from the torture. I let him stay at my place in town. I didn't like the idea of leaving him alone, so he gave me his weapons and told me he wouldn't try anything like that. I took whatever else seemed like it could be used for self-harm and left. He's probably drinking his sorrow away."

"Drinking?" Elsa asked, frowning worriedly.

"Don't worry. He has more self-restraint than you'd think he'd have after all he went through… I think…" Kristoff said. Though now that Hans was alone in the house with no fear of making a total idiot of himself, he might actually drink himself to the point of passing out despite despising alcohol. Ooh… He'd better head back and check on him soon.

"Take me to him," Elsa said.

"Actually… now isn't a good time," Kristoff replied. "Just… trust me, I know." After the death of his family _he'd_ certainly found himself in taverns a lot more often. He never got drunk, but _damn_ had he thought about it. He'd had more self-restraint in himself than even _he'd_ known he'd possessed.

"He needs to talk to someone," Elsa said.

"He will. I'm dealing with it Elsa, I promise. And Erik and Francis are arriving this morning before the Duke of Weselton comes. You and Anna mentioned they'd lost loved ones too, so they might be able to help. They're on okay terms with Hans, right?" Kristoff asked.

"'Okay' is relative," Elsa dryly answered. Frankly, she wasn't sure _what_ Hans's relationship with the bodyguards was like. The prince was very private about his personal relationships. So much so that his own brothers weren't aware how close or distant he was from those he called friends or comrades.

"It'll be taken care of. I promise," Kristoff said. "When I think it'll be okay for people to start interacting with him again, I'll bring you to him."

"You're implying he's getting drunk. Don't sugar coat it for me," Elsa said.

Kristoff was silent. "Hans isn't really a drinker," he finally answered. But grief and trauma weren't great combinations to ensure he _stayed_ that way. They weren't anything the prince couldn't overcome, just… Yeah, he really needed to check on Hans. It seemed to Kristoff that whenever Hans opened up to people, it only made his wounds worse and drove him further into despair because… because it forced him to confront the pain for _himself_ , and Hans had never done anything like that before. Grief and anguish were totally foreign to the prince, he'd always hidden from them, and that could _not_ end well. "He'll be okay, Elsa," Kristoff added.

Elsa looked unconvinced but soon sighed, bowing her head. "Alright," she quietly relented.

"Thank you," Kristoff replied, bowing his head to her. Quickly he hurried off. He had to meet Erik and Francis at the docks, he decided. This was a guy matter to deal with. He doubted Elsa would know how to handle the prince at this stage. This stage was when friends were needed. Even more so than family. Friends weren't as intimately involved in things and effected by them, but they weren't so far removed that empathy and comfort couldn't be given either. Hans just needed someone there. Someone to let him mourn but not mourn _with_ him like a family member would. That would come later. Of course, Kristoff was no grief expert, for all he knew his thought process was totally wrong, but it just seemed like the best thing to do right now for a guy like Hans.

Frozen

Kristoff went to the docks shortly after leaving Elsa's company. He was determined to get back to Hans and check on him, but he kind of didn't want to be there alone with the guy. He didn't know how to help people. Not when they were suffering like this. He hadn't even known how to help _himself_. He was still paying for that, he knew, still depressed whenever… whenever he remembered his family… He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed painfully over it, shaking his head. He looked up at the Weselton ship that was in the process of being unloaded. Erik and Francis were coming down the gangplank together and talking. Oh boy. Here it went. He wasn't sure how this would go, he didn't know the guys well, or at all, but they had a mutual friend, if you could call it that, in Hans, so hopefully things wouldn't be too awkward. Oh he was not a people person, but Hans needed help and dammit he'd get his friend—damn right he'd called the prince his friend—help.

"Erik, Francis!" he called out. The two bodyguards paused and looked curiously at him.

"Kristoff, wasn't it? What is it?" Erik asked.

"It's… well, it's Prince Hans," Kristoff said.

"We heard he and his brother were freed. God, what they must have suffered in Cumberland… What of him? Is he alright?" Francis asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"He's… not in a good place," Kristoff replied.

"Is someone with him? He shouldn't be left alone now," Erik said.

"W-well n-no. Not at the moment. I-I can't help him! I don't know what to say or what to do. I was… I was hoping that you two… I mean, I know you've… suffered losses… I mean, I have too, I'm just… not good with words," Kristoff said. He had to rehearse even motivational or uplifting speeches for like hours before he felt comfortable enough to give them to whoever he wanted to convey his thoughts and emotions to. Ugh, it was so much easier to just punch the other guy's arm. To him that was like major therapy as far as he was concerned. He didn't do the talking stuff. _Most_ guys didn't. At least not the guys _he_ knew, like coworkers. Maybe because they were too scared to be seen as weak? It was ridiculous, yeah, but a sad truth.

Both bodyguards were silent. "Lead the way," Erik finally said. "We'll do what we can to talk to him. But Kristoff, you are being more help to him than you think you are. Even simply being there and staying with him… It means more to him than words will. The fact that you care enough to stick close."

"It's what showed us the Duke of Weselton was actually a man worth protecting…" Francis murmured. After… after the deaths of the man's daughters, they'd honestly believed the Duke would have them executed as he'd so often threatened before, once he'd learned of the affairs. He didn't… In fact, despite his own pain he tried to be there for them, expecting nothing in return from the two young men. It had meant everything to him and Erik both, and so they had repaid the favor. Kristoff nodded and led them towards his house in town.

Frozen

The group stopped outside the house. They weren't hesitating to go in, they'd have had no problem with that, but Hans wasn't there. They saw him up on the roof alone and looking totally lost. "If he tries to jump…" Kristoff worriedly began.

"The prince is stronger than that," Erik assured. "To him suicide would be too merciful and too quick for a man like himself. He seems more the self-inflicted punishment type. Or what he considers, at this stage, is self-inflicted punishment. A sort of 'what doesn't kill you' scenario."

"I'll go up to him first," Francis said. "It will be best to go one at a time."

"Good luck," Erik said to his friend. Francis nodded and entered the house with the other two. He made his way up to the roof alone.

Once he was on the roof, Francis looked towards where Hans was sitting and approached the prince. "Kristoff was right. You're in no state to be alone," he remarked. Hans started, looking back in confusion. What was Francis doing here? As if sensing the question, Francis said, "Your friend came to meet us at the docks and ask us to come back here with him. For your sake."

Hans was quiet. He soon looked away. "It isn't your business or Erik's or his," he bitterly said.

"You lost someone," Francis replied, ignoring Hans's insistence it wasn't his business. "A boy. Kristoff told us of it."

"Damn him," Hans whispered.

"You do not have to face this alone," Francis said. "It does you no good. It'll only hurt you in the end."

"What would _you_ know?" Hans bit.

"I lost my lover and my unborn baby girl!" Francis sharply snapped.

Hans jumped at the backlash and blinked at the man. Soon he turned away, guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "I… I forgot…"

"Don't apologize," Francis said. "You're entitled to forget some things when you're suffering… What did that boy mean to you…?"

Hans was quiet. "I don't know," he finally answered. "He was a friend, a brother… a son… Which probably sounds ridiculous coming from me. I was hardly that much older than him anyway."

"No... It doesn't sound ridiculous. Paternal instinct is a funny thing," Francis muttered. "God knows you have it in spades. I've read the stories you write. You're fond of children, aren't you? Have you entertained the thought of having any for yourself?"

"No comment," Hans deadpanned. He was beyond done with this topic already.

Francis sighed, letting it drop. After a moment he said, "You can't face this alone, Hans."

"I can and will," he replied.

"You don't have to," Francis said. "Please. Let those who love you and care for you be there for you. This pain you feel, this anguish… It's more than a man on his own can handle…"

"Men have done it before me," Hans replied.

"They should never have had to, if that's so," Francis replied. "And most who feel alone give up and die. Sometimes at their own hand."

"Dying isn't so bad," Hans said, half to himself and half to Francis. "The pain ends… He died so slowly…"

Francis was quiet. "Stop telling yourself he died in anguish. He died trying to make it better for you and for Rhun and for his father most of all. He died as he lived, helping and soothing others."

"He shouldn't have died at all!" Hans said.

"I know," Francis replied. He wouldn't say 'but he did' as if that made it any better, because it didn't. At the end of the day, Hans needed this. He didn't need the problem to be fixed immediately, he didn't need others to try and make it seem so final, so 'let it go and get over it'. He just needed to say it and say it and say it again until he couldn't say it anymore.

"He shouldn't have died at all," Hans repeated. "Children don't die… They should never have to die!"

"I know," Francis said in a whisper, anguish filling his eyes as he remembered the Duke of Weselton's description of his little girl. Of what she would have looked like… He closed his eyes tightly, swallowing over a lump. "Don't do this alone," he said to Hans, voice nearly breaking. "There are those who understand… I will be here, if you ever feel like talking or ranting."

Hans was quiet. Francis waited then rose to leave. "Thank you," Hans suddenly said.

Francis paused. "You're welcome," he answered without turning. He quickly left to send Erik up. At least he'd opened _something_ of a hole. A little more prompting and maybe, just maybe, Hans would finally give in and let himself grieve with the support of others rather than alcohol. Then again, the prince was stubborn. Always signs of improvement before regression, then improvement again and then such severe regression you didn't know if he would ever come back from it… But he did… He did, and he stayed. Usually. He hoped it would be that way this time as well.

Frozen

Erik came onto the roof and sat at Hans's side with a heavy sigh. In his hand he held a large bottle of ale. He took a swig of it then handed it to the prince. Hans glanced at it, then looked at him incredulously. "If Kristoff told you about Aaron, he probably told you he was worried I was drinking myself to a stupor. You think giving me alcohol right now is a good idea?"

"No, but I'm here to mediate and split it," Erik said.

"And careen me down a self-destructive path to death by drink," Hans said.

"Take the bottle, Hans," Erik said. He'd made sure it was something utterly disgusting. Well, not to him, it was to _his_ tastes, but to Hans's palate it would be the vilest thing ever. If Hans continued drinking it despite that, he'd know they had a problem and be able to ensure that said problem couldn't be encouraged. It was a stupid way to deal with the matter, but if he was going to talk about… about _her_ … he would need the drink. Badly. He hoped he wouldn't have to bring memory of her into it, but just in case.

Hans looked at the bottle and took it. He took a sip and nearly vomited right there, coughing and spitting the stuff out. "What is that?!" he freaked.

"A Weselton special," Erik replied.

"It's hardly a wonder there's so many shadows of the dead there!" Hans bit.

Erik shrugged. "It takes the edge off the cold and it's strong," he said, taking the bottle back and drinking from it. Hans was quiet. Suddenly he reached out, snatching it back and drinking from it deeper this time. He visibly grimaced and again looked about ready to throw up, but he had taken a second drink nonetheless. Erik frowned. Note to self, ensure Kristoff left no alcohol anywhere around. Just in case. "You're hurting that badly, aren't you?" he said.

Hans stiffened and gave him a glare. "Two years of my life were stolen from me. Two years in captivity. Two years of brutal torture where seeing the light was a blessing, even if it meant seeing it from an oven dug into the ground that was roasting you alive. The one thing about it that I didn't despise was then taken and murdered by the thing that took everything from my brother and I! I loved that boy."

Erik was quiet. "That's the first time you've admitted it to yourself, isn't it?" he said. Hans was quiet. The silence was answer enough. "Then you're making progress," Erik said.

"I don't want to accept he's gone! I don't want to believe he's never coming back!" Hans insisted. "The pain… It's just so much…"

"The pain will never leave," Erik said gruffly. "It'll always be there with his memory… But in memory there is also good… You don't have to forever remember the way he died, or how painful it was. You don't have to remember how scared he was…"

"Enough," Hans pled in a whisper.

"You can remember that he died at peace. He died in his father's arms having finally gotten him back after so many years. He died happy, not afraid," Erik said. "He died secure in the knowledge that he was loved again, and that there were those who would grieve and avenge him. He didn't want you to suffer, or your brother, or his father. You of course did, we always do, but he didn't want that."

"You didn't even know him!" Hans insisted.

"I didn't need to!" Erik shot. "You told Kristoff enough about that boy for him to get the point across to us. That he was something special and unique and so brave, and that yes, he should have lived. He _deserved_ to live…"

"But he didn't," Hans whispered.

"No. He didn't. But a boy like that would not want others to be in pain over him. He would want them to live on for his sake, for honor of him. The Duke of Cumberland may not have the strength to do that, but you and Rhun… You _must_. If his father dies, then you two at _least_ must live for his sake, and not let yourselves despair," Erik said. "I know that you think we're trying to fix what can't be fixed by helping you. Perhaps we are. It isn't what you need to hear right now, but it's something we want to say. Not only for your sakes but for our own. Our grief... My beloved and Francis's. His unborn child. Kristoff's family… Perhaps by playing this role to you, we are helping ourselves to cope with loss too and sort through it… We are resolving in ourselves why we must keep living… You need to start doing it too… Not now, maybe not for some time to come, but before you let yourself crumbled in despair, at least try. I think that maybe you will do better at it than we ever did," Erik said.

For a long time Hans was silent, looking up at the sky. He knew they were right, at least in some senses… It didn't make it easier to hear, though, but… but oddly enough, it had made him feel a bit better. Well, perhaps not better, nothing would make this better again… But at least it made him feel less afraid and more determined to overcome... God knew the Princes of the Southern Isles were stubborn. It had saved them often. It would save him now…

"I'll return to the palace tonight," he soon said. Elsa needed to know what had happened to Aaron anyway… He knew she'd been fond of him too, at least for the brief time she'd known him. She may not cry for the boy, he couldn't expect her to for she'd hardly known him, but she would mourn in her own small way for him… And maybe it would help him as well…

"Good. A masquerade will be occurring tonight. Come prepared for that," Erik said. Hans nodded. "And Hans, avoid the drink. Please." Hans was quiet. No promises, but he'd try. Erik, knowing he'd get no reply, nodded, deciding to trust the prince on this one, then rose and left with the bottle of ale.

 _That Night_

Elsa sat on her throne in the ballroom, watching the guests dance. The Duke of Weselton had arrived in the afternoon, after Francis and Erik had come. With him he had brought the shadows, who had swiftly blended away to wait until the opportune time to emerge again. Perhaps they were here even as she sat. She looked around at the dancing silhouettes. Oh, they were here she sensed. She watched the dancing once more. Kristoff and Anna were there, wrapped in each other's arms so tightly… She felt their longing for one another, the love they felt. They stopped dancing, soon enough, and slipped out of the ballroom. She could guess where they were going, and suddenly she felt… she felt empty…

Many a man had asked her to share a dance. Very few had had the honor. She was in no mood to dance. She just wanted to watch and be left alone. The Duke of Weselton came, though, and insisted she come out onto the dance floor. This time she obliged the man. "You're having no fun at this, are you dearest?" the Duke said to her, frowning.

"No," Elsa admitted, bowing her head. "I just… feel alone… And worried."

"For the prince?" the Duke asked.

She was quiet. "Yes," she soon admitted. "I'm _very_ worried for him."

"I wish I could offer you advise, my dear, but unfortunately the Princes of the Southern Isles are unique puzzles all their own. They don't exactly conform to averages in human behavior." Which could be both a good or bad thing depending on what those averages were.

Elsa couldn't help but smile at the Duke's observation. Oh how well she knew the truth in those words. Her smile faded. It was aggravating, to say the least. "I want… I want to make his pain go away…"

The Duke observed her silently for a moment before his eyes lit up in realization. "You're falling in love with him," he said, wonder in his voice.

"What? No!" Elsa replied, pulling away from the Duke and looking horrified, or what she hoped was horrified, at the implication. "He's my friend. I don't want to see him suffer. There's no romance about it."

The Duke looked dubious, but he sensed this wasn't a topic to be pursued. He could insist until he was blue in the face, but ultimately this was something she had to realize for herself. "If you say so, Elsa," he answered. She was obviously still flustered, though, hardly acknowledging his words. Hmm, perhaps he would give her some time to think that through. Subtly he slipped away from her, though he kept an eye on her in concern in case she try to leave the ball. That would hardly do. She was hostess, after all. It would be perceived as the height of rudeness and talk would be spread for weeks.

Frozen

Elsa, lost in thought, soon looked hopelessly up. She couldn't understand her heart or her mind. It was so aggravating.

 _You understand it. You're just hiding from it._

She ignored that thought and scanned the crowd. She froze. Across the ballroom there stood a man. He was watching her, his mask blending and dancing with the ever changing light, its colors never staying the same for longer than a minute. A Chameleon mask…

 _And in it fire danced… I know you…_

She realized, suddenly, that she'd stopped breathing. She began to do so again, but her eyes remained fixed on him as he began to move towards her, gracefully navigating the crowds. Soon he was there, and gently his hands fell on her arms, softly moving up and down them. She cursed the fact the touch made her shiver despite the fact he wore gloves. He didn't ask if he could have this dance. He took it. He drew her into the crowd and soon enough they were caught up in only each other's' presence, and little else registered. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, and he rested his chin on her, closing his eyes.

 _I belong to you, Nightingale. Now and forever. Snow Queen, I don't want to let you go…_

It was dangerous in his arms, she knew. So dangerous… Dangerous because every part of her wanted him in ways she despised. She wanted him near always. She wanted him to be with her.

 _I would have chosen you, because losing you is something I don't want to ever think about or endure again…_

It was dangerous to be here. Like this. With him. With her. They drew apart, looking into each other's eyes. She wanted him to kiss her again… Here, though, it would be much too inappropriate. Gods knew the whispers that would go around… She forgot that the Princes of the Southern Isles didn't always play by the rules. He swept her suddenly behind a pillar, out of sight, and pressed his lips to hers longingly. Her mouth quivered and she relished in the feel of him so near. So alive. There.

 _He is still alive. He is still here. He is free… But he is suffering… You hate watching him suffer…_

He drew back from her and she let out a shaky breath. She didn't want that sensation to go. Neither did he, to be honest, but this was not the time or place. They were being too risky as it was. He couldn't let this happen again, he decided. For god's sake, they weren't even married! No. This couldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it. He swallowed and bowed to her. Quickly he turned, leaving her behind. Not long after, she called an end to the ball. She couldn't be here anymore. She needed time to herself. To think things through.

Frozen

It was in the dining room off to the side, shortly before breakfast was brought in, that he told her that Aaron was dead. She couldn't believe she had heard him correctly. She had wanted so badly to deny it, but the grief in his expression… There was no room for denial. The child was gone. She felt a burning sensation in her eyes. More for the pain she witnessed in Hans, though, than for Aaron. She wanted to cry for Aaron. It was hard to weep for someone you had only met once and only for a few hours… But he had meant so much to Hans, she saw that plainly enough. That he had had to witness the child's murder… God, the boy had only been a _child_ … He had been so sweet and gentle... Why had he had to die?

"I'm sorry," she said. He nodded but couldn't find the strength to speak. She leaned against him, holding him. Gratefully he held her back for a long moment, lightly swaying her from side to side. The doors to the dining room were opened and they looked up, pulling apart and returning to the table as the food was set down. "Where are Anna and Kristoff?" Elsa asked. Gerda, who had brought the plates, gave Elsa a look that screamed 'are you actually really asking that'. Elsa flushed. "Err, of course," she said, a little embarrassed.

"They'll be down soon enough your Majesty," Gerda assured. The Duke harrumphed, obviously highly disapproving of all of this. Francis and Erik exchanged hopeless looks. The old man was really quite the prude, and despite how much he had changed thanks to Elsa and Anna, he was still a bit of a snob. Which really wasn't too surprising given his age and stubbornness.

Hans cleared his throat and awkwardly began to eat the food as they waited for Kristoff and Anna to come down and join them. "Prince Hans, your brothers will arrive today," Kai said to Hans.

Hans froze, fork halfway to his mouth, then looked at Kai. "What now?" he asked.

"They've sent word they've entered Arendelle's waters," Kai said. "They should be here by evening." Hans was quiet, suddenly looking much more tired. Not because he was upset they were coming, but because he didn't want to see their sympathy and pity… He wanted to pretend everything was okay and maybe it would help him heal faster. Seeing pity… It just felt like it would make things so much worse.

Hans put down his fork. "I'd like to be excused," he said, looking depressed.

Elsa worriedly watched him. "You should eat, Hans," she answered.

"I should, but I won't whether I stay or go. I just… need to be alone," Hans said.

Elsa hesitated. "I will watch over him, madam," Kai subtly whispered to Elsa, bending down as if to pick up a fallen napkin.

Elsa sighed. "Very well," she answered. "Hans, if you need anything…"

"I know," he said, rising and leaving quickly. Kai waited a moment then followed, Elsa giving him a grateful nod.

Frozen

Hans went directly to his room. Before entering, though, he paused outside of it. "I know you're there, Kai," he said.

There was a brief moment of nothing, but finally the man shuffled awkwardly and slightly ashamedly into sight. "My apologies, your Highness, but you can't be alone."

"Yes I can," Hans answered. "It isn't like I'm going to do anything to myself!"

"I know. It just seems that right now solitude is the last thing that should be given you," Kai said.

"Why does everybody presume to know what I need or don't?" Hans heatedly asked. He was starting to feel powerless again. Like he did while growing up and absolutely everyone was telling the youngest what to do and how to feel and how to think. And if he wasn't listening, would more often than not beat whatever it was he was supposed to feel or think into him.

"Tell me about the boy," Kai said suddenly, changing the subject so Hans didn't wind himself up over the concern others were showing him. Besides, he was curious about this 'Aaron'. Immediately the angry exterior crumbled and despair was there again. "Oh dear boy," Kai said with a rueful sigh, shaking his head. Hans was definitely in no place to be alone. The masks were starting to slip on again, like that one of anger and resentment. The prince was beginning to deceive himself, and that would never do.

After a moment Hans entered his room, but allowed Kai to come in too. He shut the door behind them and went to a chair, sitting in it and bowing his head. There was silence. Kai didn't push. Kai didn't try to reason or try and fix things or make it better. The man would never know how grateful Hans was for that mercy. Kai simply waited until Hans felt open to speaking… And he did, and everything poured out until Hans was weeping again for the memories. Kai didn't try to offer comfort beyond placing a gentle and reassuring hand on his shoulder, lightly massaging it and coaxing him to go on, telling him he would listen. And he did. For hours. And he didn't leave until Hans was laying down to sleep and dismissed him. No, words would never describe how grateful Hans was for that. He really should find some way to reward the man one day.

"Goodnight, sir... He was a wonderful boy," Kai said.

"He was… Thank you, Kai," Hans answered. Kai bowed his head and shut the door quietly to let Hans nap. Soon enough the prince's brothers would be here. Kai worried for what Hans would do then. The prince wasn't the sort to tolerate sympathy well. It just made him feel worse. With luck, though, his siblings could help him understand why they felt sympathy and how it wasn't an inherently bad thing. Or not. He shook his head ruefully. All he could do was hope for the best when they arrived, but given the reputation of the Southern Isles and the fact none of those young men were quite... understanding of themselves or each other, he wasn't holding his breath.

Frozen

It was pandemonium almost immediately, on the arrival of the heirs of the Southern Isles. Their shouting and arguing could be heard throughout the palace as they frantically tried to reach their brother who would have none of it. Soon they all gave up and just left, throwing their hands in the air. Every one of them went an opposite way which implied Hans hadn't been the only one in the center of a dispute or argument. They needed time to cool down before dealing with one another again. The only two brothers that remained near Hans were Franz and Rhun. Franz because before he'd left, he'd caught Hans bee-lining for alcohol. He knew the sign all too well and realized immediately what his brother was into. Another shouting match broke out before Franz had left too, Rhun following with a worried look on his face.

"He's going to drink himself to death if he keeps this up and keeps refusing to let anyone in!" Franz raged at Rhun. "I should know, dammit! I'm an alcoholic!" Well, was. It had been getting better as of late, and as their relationships with each other were building, but right now he was really feeling the pull to drink himself to unconsciousness. "He doesn't even _like_ that damned stuff! He knows this is self-destructive so why the hell is he doing it?!" Goodness knew he'd screamed at his sibling for about an hour telling him to quit while he could and telling him he'd drink himself to death. When Hans, overwhelmed by everything—guilt and shame not least among them—had broken down, Franz had known he'd done something wrong and that it was time to leave. He'd gone too far, crossed a line. With a muttered apology, he'd bolted with Rhun, as previously established.

"I don't know… I'll try to talk to him. Again," Rhun said. "He can't be alone now. Not when he's like this. Dammit, I can't _remember_ the last time I saw him this deep in despair." Aaron's death notwithstanding.

"Are you the best one to go to him for that?" Franz asked, concerned.

"No… But I'm the only one of us who is suffering too and understands that pain…" Rhun answered. Goodness knew he was feeling it too.

Franz nodded, pity in his eyes, and pulled his older brother close, hugging him. Drawing back, he said, "Be careful with him. And with yourself."

"I will," Rhun promised, nodding. Franz nodded back then left to try and get the rest of his brothers together in the same room again. Hopefully 'peace talks' could begin, then, and would go off without much problem. Yeah. Right. He scoffed to himself but decided to try nonetheless.

Frozen

Rhun pushed open the door to Hans's room. "Hans?" he called gently. He heard a sniff and squinted in the dark. Why were the lights all out? A chill shot through him. "Hans?!" he called again, a little more urgently.

"I'm here," Hans answered. The voice sounded like it came from the side of the bed facing the window. Which meant Hans was probably sitting on the floor. Rhun went inside of the room and to the bed. Hans was there, face buried in his knees.

"Are you okay?" Rhun asked.

Hans was quiet. "I stopped drinking," he finally answered with a bitter laugh. "I stopped… I stopped drinking…" Something in the way he said those words set off alarm bells and caused an even more severe chill to pass through Rhun's body. Quickly he went to the candles and began lighting them again. When he reached Hans's side a second time, he froze and cried out in horror and despair. Hans was looking at his wrists, where fresh cuts resided, deep and bleeding. He looked up at his older brother. "I stopped the drinking," he said a third time; but Rhun would have _rather_ his brother been drinking than this.

Rhun gasped, falling to his sibling's side and pulling Hans close, tears in his eyes and now falling. "Stop this," he pled. "Stop it, please! Don't do this anymore, brother, I beg you! Let me grieve with you. I hurt too! Don't do this alone. Don't, don't. You can't. You aren't able. Hans, please… Let me grieve with you." Suffice it to say, soon enough Hans broke down and Rhun shortly after, keeping his brother close and rocking him.

Frozen

The argument ripping through the siblings' 'peace talks' stopped immediately when Rhun and Hans joined their brothers and the others saw the wrappings around Hans's wrists. Some of which were bleeding through. Then grief hit again, and a peace was found once more as they brought their sibling into the fold and, as Rhun had done, grieved with him, though for different reasons. There was no more facing things alone. There couldn't be. Not with so much at stake. They had to be there for him. For each _other_. And they _would_ be. At least for now. For now and whenever else it was needed. Old wounds never fully healed, scars were always there, but they could be treated, more or less. They would do their best to treat it. There was no guarantee they'd succeed. There would always be highs and lows. Right now, though, they weren't thinking about that. They just knew they had to be there this time. No more letting their siblings suffer alone. For now they did it together, and the grief seemed to lessen for the youngest, even if only slightly. But it was something, and it was good, and he wanted to cling to it for as long as he could.

 _But you won't be able to for long, none of you; because this is far from over._


	24. The Fair Folk

The Fair Folk

(A/N: One more chapter after this one to go. Three large crossover Easter Eggs are brought in here. One is with the Tinkerbelle movies - series? - but I've never actually watched a Tinkerbelle movie in my life besides Peter Pan, Return to Neverland, and Hook, so Queen Clarion will probably be out of character, but eh. The other crossover Easter Egg I won't spoil, but suffice it to say that if you've watched the movies, or read the book - one line this chapter is taken from said book - you'll catch on to who the character was modelled after, or possibly is, pretty quickly. Not sure how many will guess it, but I'll soon see. The battle scene is pretty lack luster, so sorry for that. It's not as exciting as I'd hoped it would be, but I'm not exactly great at writing battle scenes. Besides, it isn't the final time they'll be at war with the evil troll. This introduces a character that will begin to creep up more in the next half of the series - which starts after the next story - so yeah. Not entirely happy with the chapter, but don't have much time to edit, so hopefully it's good. Enjoy.)

The Duke of Cumberland approached what he knew to be the gateway to Pixie Hollow. In his hand he held his wife's jewels. The Fairy Queen would recognize them. He pushed though some brush and stepped out into the middle of a small fairy ring. He knelt, laying the objects in the middle, then stepped out of it once more. There was quiet for a long time, but he didn't leave. Nor did he intend to, no matter how long it took.

"Who are you, mortal?" a voice asked, tiny but loud enough for him to make it out. He looked around, slightly startled. "You won't find me, you know. Unless I wish to be found. These things you've left in the fairy ring. They belong to the Duchess of Cumberland."

The Duke closed his eyes, sorrow striking him. "Belonged," he soon corrected. Silence met his declaration. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw before him a fairy, seated on a flower and silently observing him. She was beautiful, he noted, and by her dress and demeanor, he knew she was queen.

"I had wondered why she stopped coming to visit. How long ago did she die?" the fairy wondered, a note of sadness in her voice.

"Fif-fifteen years ago," the Duke answered.

"You are her husband," the little pixie - he wondered briefly if pixies were another race of fae and not the same as fairies - noted.

"Yes… And the father of her murdered child…" he replied.

The Pixie Queen started, looking at him in surprise. "Why have you come?" she soon asked. "Because if it is to ask for revenge, I won't give it to you."

"And if I ask it of you and say I claim it as the favor she was never able to collect?" the Duke questioned. The Fairy Queen shifted slightly uncomfortably. A promise given by the fae was binding and always kept. They could not go back on them. "I don't ask revenge, Queen Clarion," he said, recalling her name now. "The man who killed by baby is dead… But the one who led him in turn… Have you heard of the cursed mirror?"

The reaction was immediate. The queen floated up into the air, a deep and serious frown etched on her face. "What do you know of the mirror?"

"More than I ever cared to," the Duke answered. "For I was among those it corrupted, and until my child lay dying, bleeding to death in my arms, I couldn't break free… And then I did, but it was too late to save my son… The troll king raged that day…"

"That thing was no troll and no sprite!" Queen Clarion immediately and heatedly said. "You saw him?"

"No, though he walked in my palace the day my son was murdered. But the Princes of the Southern Isles and rulers of Arendelle have been up close and personal, and now he threatens to destroy all of Arendelle," the Duke said. "I don't know if that should matter to you, they are human, mortal, and it seems to me that rarely do the Fair Folk bother with them, but they are not the only ones he planned to massacre. You know of the Valley of the Living Rock?"

"He wants to attack it?" Clarion asked.

"He has already… And he slaughtered every single troll living in that place say for the children and infants… It was two years ago now. One and a half, rather," the Duke said. "I come to you to beg your help in stopping him. If not killing him, then at least driving him away once more. I come to plead that you find the Queen of Sprites and bid her step in as well, and tell her what befell the valley and the troll with which she bore that beast into this world. I come to you because we cannot stand to that creature. Mortals against fae? How could we?"

"Mortals have stood and been victorious over the fae before," Clarion answered. "But the hobgoblin… His armies are vast and powerful and twisted. Though you may be able to stand on your own against him, we won't let you. If this if the favor you ask for your wife, so be it. We will come. So will the sprites."

"Thank you," the Duke said, bowing to her.

"I'm so sorry for all that you lost," she softly said.

The Duke tensed up. "Sorry does not put my son in my arms again, or my wife," he said.

"No, I don't suppose it does. Or ever will. It's all that can be offered, though, and so I give it… She was dear to me… It makes me happy to know she had a child of her own. She so desperately wanted one… I wish she had been able to watch him grow..."

"Don't. Please. Don't. I can't…" the Duke began. He drew in a shaky breath. "I can't bear to hear it. Not now."

Clarion's eyes softened. "I apologize… Go home, Dear Duke, and know that you have the pixies, fairies, and good sprites at your side. The Duke nodded and tuned, quickly leaving and taking his wife's jewels with him.

Frozen

Clarion watched the man go then immediately flew through the forest as quickly as she could, determined to fine the Spite Empress. It wasn't long before she came on the other's domain. "Empress of the Sprites, hear the call of the Fairy Queen and come out to me!" Clarion called towards her residence. It wasn't long before the sprite Empress began to materialize.

"Clarion, why have you come here?" the sprite, dark and powerful, asked in a cold voice. Though she put on a stoic and impersonal front, Clarion knew her counterpart well enough to realize it was a guise. An intimidation. A way to assert her authority and power.

"We are on equal ground, you and I. No need for your act with me. I need your help, Farah. In regards to your son," Clarion said, not allowing herself to be intimidated.

Farah was silent. "My son…" she finally repeated. "You speak of Carabis. You speak of the anomaly."

"He has returned, his armies with him. You haven't heard, have you? What happened in the Valley of the Living Rock?" Clarion said.

Farah stiffened. She was quiet for a long time. "What happened?" she finally dared ask.

"Your son, with his armies, went there and descended upon its residence. They slaughtered every single one, say for the children… He slaughtered his father… And his half-sister, and her husband, and everyone else."

Farah let out a shaky breath, glow fading as grief struck her. Suddenly the sprite Empress seemed so tired… "I knew he would return one day," she whispered. She just… hadn't expected it would be like _that_ …

"He threatens the mortal kingdom of Arendelle. The Duke of Cumberland came to me, a man once inflicted by the cursed mirror but who is now free," Clarion said.

"How?" Farah asked.

"Because his child was murdered in front of him and died in suffering, held in his father's arms. That grief, that pain and guilt, that love… It was enough…" Clarion replied. "He came and asked for a favor that his wife was never able to collect on. He asked my help in battle against the trolls… And I come to you now, because that creature was born of you, and I doubt anyone knows how to handle him better… Do you love your son, Farah…?"

Farah again was quiet. "I tried to," she answered. "But I knew… I knew from the beginning he was not meant to be… I knew from the start he was beyond any help… I tried to change his path. I raised and loved him where even Gran' Pabbie couldn't, and gave him everything I could, and still… It wasn't enough, because a cross between troll and sprite? You need only look at Carabis to understand… All the power of a troll and sprite mixed, all the cunning and cruelty of the sprites, all the temper and rage and disdain for humanity of the worst of the trolls… We doomed our child… I will help you, Clarion. And Arendelle's queen. This time I can't turn back… No, I do not love my son. Not anymore… I know what he is…" Clarion nodded to her understandingly.

Frozen

The thirteen brothers rode two and two, and three in the case of the triplets, on their trek to the menhir. They had gone together for the sake of safety. The elves were not to be trifled with and were unpredictable. "Are we looking at an Elfin Queen or Elfin King?" Kelin-Sel questioned.

"At last understanding it was a king," Calcas answered.

"And has ever been," Connyn agreed. "Or rather, for many, many, many ages it has been a king. Mostly, though, you hear of his daughters. He's very rarely mentioned himself."

"How many daughters are we talking about?" Franz asked, perking up in intrigue.

Connyn gave his older brother an incredulous look. "Five I believe," Coth answered for Connyn. "And most of them cruel, so I wouldn't advise getting sucked in by them. With luck they won't be enamored with _us_ either. Or even see us."

"How many children does he have?" Justic wondered.

"He had seven, I believe, but there's no certain number I know of. There could be only one. What happened to them all, we have no idea," Calcas answered.

"We are drawing near the standing stones," Moren said. They fell silent. "We go two by two, say for the triplets, one group at a time. That way if something goes wrong, the next pair can go. If they are dancing, don't let yourself watch. The Elven King's illusions are powerful. More than you can imagine. His and all his people. It's said what feels like only minutes or seconds to you can end up being years upon years upon years of watching their dance."

"That's supposed to make us feel okay?" Duach incredulously asked. He sighed in annoyance. "Rhun and I will go first."

"Right," Rhun agreed.

"We'll follow them," Calcas said, gesturing to himself, Connyn, and Coth.

"Justic and I will go after," Franz said.

"Then me and Jürgen," Iscawin added.

"Kelin-Sel will go after them with me," Mael said. "You and Hans come last… But if it comes to that, play it safe and don't try and get us back at all. Otherwise _none_ of us will ever be seen again."

"We'll see," Moren answered. He nodded at Rhun and Duach. They nodded back and rode forth.

Frozen

When three hours passed with no return, they knew the twins wouldn't come back. Not of their own devices. Without hesitation the triplets rode after them. Three more hours, no return. Franz and Justic rode off. No one expected them to come back. Not even themselves. Sure enough, they didn't. They waited only two hours this time before Iscawin and Jürgen galloped into the woods to find the standing stones. Only one hour went by before Mael and Kelin-Sel rode forth. Again, there was no return. Moren and Hans stayed put.

"If we go in there, we might never come back," Hans finally said.

"Are you saying we give them up for lost?" Moren asked.

"No… I'm just saying," Hans answered.

Moren nodded and looked ahead. "Go home, Hans… There must be an heir on the throne…" he said.

Hans started, sharply looking at his sibling with eyes wide. Moren was actually trusting him with that? Trusting him enough to send him home to reign as _king_? All he'd wanted for so long and Moren was handing it to him on a silver platter! Suddenly he was aware his brother was riding off. He hesitated, uneasy. He felt like he should go after him, but why? Caleb was only dooming himself. The throne sat open for the taking. He could… he could just leave… It would be so easy to leave… It wasn't like they'd never come back! He might as well enjoy the power while he had it. He stiffened.

 _Power… Power or family… You know the fate that awaits you if you choose power… So why are you still so tempted to…?_

 _Because in the depths of his heart, he is the monster they feared he was. Go to the throne. Take it. You've earned it._

Hans shook his head frantically, trying to get rid of the whispers of, well, himself… And the mirror… He looked ahead once more. Caleb had vanished. He turned his horse to ride away then stopped. "What the hell am I doing?" he whispered to himself almost fearfully. Shaking his head once more he turned Sitron again and galloped after his brothers determinedly.

The youngest prince rode up alongside the king, who looked at him in shock. "Hans, what are you doing? You have to go home! That throne can't sit empty," the King said.

"I choose family over power," Hans answered. "This time at least." He was terrified that he wouldn't always... Moren was quiet. He knew Hans still didn't trust himself, but at least for now his brother was safe from the curse.

"How close did you come to choosing the opposite?" he asked.

Hans was quiet. "I turned to ride away," he finally admitted. "Then turned back… Let's just get our brothers, gain audience with this 'elven king', and get out." Moren nodded.

Frozen

They heard the dancing before they saw it. One glance down, they saw their brothers. Some watched the dance in awe and wonder, stricken like stone. Others had collapsed fast asleep on the outskirts of the ring of light cast by the flames. The fire blazed on and the music echoed boldly. "The ring of light is enchanted," Moen deduced. That was why some of their siblings were asleep. And would be for however long the fae wished it.

"How exactly are we supposed to approach this?" Hans urgently whispered.

"I don't know," Moren admitted. "I'd hoped _you'd_ have an idea."

Hans looked back towards the fairy circle, thinking. "Just one. And it may cost us or it may save us. He rose upright without hesitation and called, "Elfin King, you _will_ give us an audience!"

Moren gawked at his sibling in horror. One did not simply _order_ the Elven King to do something! "Are you out of your mind?!" he frantically hissed to his brother. The music stopped, and the sounds of the dancing. Moren caught his breath and nervously looked down. The eyes of the Elf King were cast on them now, cold and dangerous and angered. "Oh sh…" Moren began.

"Will you calm down?" Hans hissed. "I know what I'm doing." Well, actually he didn't, but it was usually unique mortals who caught the interest of the Fair Folk. That someone would actually dare to command the elf king would spark intrigue and hopefully keep him alive long enough to _have_ his audience. Or at least drive a few points home. He looked back to the king. "Cowardly sprite, come here!" he shot viciously.

The Elf King rose from is chair of carven wood, eyes dark and flashing, and drew the sword at his side without even a second thought. Moren was inwardly cursing up a storm. "Hans, he has the others at his mercy!" he exclaimed to his brother. He hoped to god Hans hadn't forgotten that aspect. Given the look of uncertainty and sudden fear, it was obvious the youngest had. He damned his brother again.

The Elf King approached them silently. The elfin folk watched, expressions cold. The king stopped, at the side of the sleeping Iscawin, and lowered his blade so that it hovered over the heart. "So you will then go after the defenseless? Hah! You're nothing of the king legends speak of. Actually… You're _everything_ of him," Hans said.

The Elven King tilted his head ever so subtly. "The folly of mortal man is his desire for control and possession. It has always been. Desire to see what he has no right to see, and speak to that which is beyond his understanding; to covet what he can never have," the King called back, withdrawing his sword and beginning to pace back and forth regally. He turned to the prince again. "And to claim more power and understanding than is within him to claim."

 _On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for the autumn was come again... In his hand he held a carven staff of oak._

Hans stiffened at the mention of power. The Elfin King observed him in silence. "There is a shard, buried deep within your heart. Others in your eyes… I know what you have crossed… I well recall the day the mirror fell from the sky and shattered to the earth. As if mankind wasn't far enough gone as it was. The wicked hybrid has long relished in the degradation of humanity and will continue to. For my part, I have no business with mortals. You are not my concern."

Hans was silent. "Elven King, you _will_ hear me," he answered after a moment, tone cold. "Do you want to know how I know?" The Elf King was silent. "Because as it is human nature to seek more than they deserve and more power than they have, as it is our nature to believe we control everything and can overcome every obstacle, it is in _your_ nature to want to bargain. To be curious. To make deals that can as easily end up stabbing those 'beneath you' in the back as helping them and earning their eternal gratitude… You'll listen because you are of the faerie folk, and will ever be."

"Do not presume to know our ways, boy," the Elf King warned.

"You will hear me," Hans repeated.

Again the Elven King was quiet. For a long time. Soon, though, he nodded his head, granting the audience. Hans let out a shaky breath. Truth be told, he'd been absolutely terrified out of his skull that this would backfire. Cautiously the prince approached with Moren. "You'll come no closer," the Elfin King suddenly said. Hans didn't dare push their luck farther and stopped.

"We have a tale to tell, of a mirror and a hybrid. Of a curse and of a massacre, and ambition that can never be realized. Of a boy and a man and a murderer, a disciple of the hybrid," Moren said calmly.

"A tale indeed. Tell it to me," the elf answered, returning to his chair and sitting in it, observing silently. Moren knew full well that even as they spoke they could be lost in some illusion. Perhaps years had gone by already. Perhaps the king was casting a spell on them as they stood here. He desperately hoped not.

"In this tale we will speak also of the Fairy Queen, the Sprite Empress, and a King of Trolls," Moren said. "It is a long tale."

"Not even a measurable unit in the life of an elf. It is _your_ time to lose," the Elf King answered.

Hans and Moren exchanged looks then turned back to the elf king. "It began fifteen years ago, with a Duke and his Duchess, the latter of which had died giving birth to their first and only child…" Hans started. The subtle twitch in the Elf King's jaw hinted that a chord had been struck in him. He didn't speak. He didn't move. Not through the whole explanation. Not once. He hardly reacted at all.

Frozen

"In the arms of his father that boy bled to death, and the wicked hobgoblin laughed and laughed because he knew victory would soon be at hand. The Valley of the Living Rock had fallen. Soon the mortal kingdom would join it. He would assert his dominance, and all would bow before his might," Hans finished after some time in a whisper.

The Elven King was silent. The only parts they knew had had personal meaning to him were the beginning and the end, when wife and son were lost. Which meant he likened it to something in his own life, which meant there was hope, as small as it was. "He would see the Fair Folk bend their knees to him," the Elf King mused, half to himself and half to them. "I had thought never to see war of this kind again… I should have known better…"

"The Fairy Queen and Sprite Empress have given their help. We came to ask for yours as well," Moren said to him.

"Do you know the Fair Folk do nothing out of the kindness of their hearts without cost?" the Elven King answered.

"Whatever that price, we'll pay it," Hans answered.

"Indeed. It would go badly for you if you didn't," the King answered. He looked at them. "You will promise the mirrors and windows to me. Those contained in the Duke's palace and any other you ever manage to find. Agree to that condition, and my people will fetch it so that you do not have to."

"Why do you want it?" Moren suspiciously asked.

"It is not your place to question my motives, child," he answered. Moren started. He hadn't been called 'child' in god knew how long. "You will agree or you will deny. The choice is yours," the Elf King said.

Both brothers were silent. "Agreed," Moren finally answered. They had no _choice_ but to trust that the elves would be more responsible with it than anyone else would. If they were wrong, they paid for their mistake… Please don't let it be a mistake…

"Then I offer you my help," the king said, bowing his head to them. They bowed back. "Take your brothers and go. I will be on the field of battle the day it comes. Of that you can be certain." He turned, returning to his people. The firelight died, and when their eyes adjusted to the dark again, the elven folk were gone, and their brothers were coming back to themselves. Oh this would be quite a story to tell.

 _One Week Later_

The day was dark, Arendelle empty. Silence reigned. Elsa stood on the balcony of the palace, looking towards the armies that had come to fight for Arendelle in the distance. She heard footsteps but didn't turn. She knew who it was. Moren. He came up alongside her, looking out over the scene grimly. He so desired to participate, she knew, but he couldn't. Not with his injury. He hated it. Hated that he wouldn't be alongside his brothers. "They'll be alright," Elsa said.

"Perhaps," Caleb answered. He turned to her. "Where have you hidden my youngest brother?" he asked.

Elsa tensed up then turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Don't send him back to battle. Please. Not him or Rhun. Not so soon after everything that's happened," she pled.

"It is their choice to join this battle or not. They will more likely than not agree to go. Don't stand in their way," Caleb warned. Elsa bit her lower lip and turned again, eyes sorrowful. "Where have you hidden my youngest brother?" Caleb repeated.

"I… I don't know… Kristoff brought him to his house in town. I'm not sure where he lived," she replied. Inwardly she was grateful. It meant it was less likely Hans would be found… Unless he came here himself…

 _He will. You know he will._

She drew a shaky breath, looking down. This was so bad… She looked up again. The sky was darkening. She saw the Fair Folk in the distance, wandering uneasily. Lights of fairies and pixies and sprites lit up the dusk and gloom. The elves stood like statues, awaiting the order of their king. The shadows… Gods only knew where the shadows were… "The wicked hobgoblin will not even have the opportunity to enter Arendelle. The force we have is larger than his and more powerful," Moren said.

"But _he's_ desperate and determined," Elsa said.

"So are we," Moren answered. Elsa was quiet, watching the dark cloud approaching all the quicker. The sprites, pixies, and fairies flew up into the air, no doubt to stop the swarm in its tracks when they arrived. It would be a few hours yet, but just in case it wasn't, they _would_ be prepared.

"Queen Elsa," a voice said. Kai. Elsa looked back at him. "Prince Hans has come. He asks your audience in the drawing room."

Elsa tensed up and Moren looked at her with an 'I told you so' sort of expression, only far more solemn and regretful than any 'I told you so' should be. So he had hoped Hans wouldn't come too, then… Elsa nodded. "Tell him I'll be there shortly," she said. Kai bowed and left. She looked at Caleb. "Isn't there something you can do or say?" she wondered.

"That boy has never listened to me," Moren ruefully answered, shaking his head. "If there is any hope of convincing him to remain, it lies in you. Not in me. He cares for you." Elsa was silent. Soon she sighed and left to go find the prince.

Frozen

Hans waited in the drawing room, looking out towards the darkening clouds. He heard the door open and turned. She was there. She seemed so tired and upset. Upset because she knew what he was going to say. She must. He turned to her and bowed. She nodded in acknowledgement. He straightened up and met her eyes. "Don't go," she said to him simply.

Hans quietly examined her expression, trying to read her heart and feelings. He despised the fact that he couldn't. Why did she have to be such a mystery? "They can't do this alone," he answered.

"This is a fae battle, not a mortal's," she argued.

"But it _is_ a mortal's fight. It's always been," Hans answered.

"Not this time," Elsa said. "Don't go. Stay here with me."

Hans watched her, and for a moment he felt torn. Quickly, though, he pushed aside the thoughts that ran over every reason he had to stay and every reason he had to go. There were very few reasons for the latter. He would stay… If he dared to… But he couldn't. He couldn't because it meant she was close again. Too close. She was becoming too much his weakness. He wouldn't have it. "No," he answered. "I won't… If what you say is true, the odds I'll be in any actual fight are slim to none. Elsa, you don't have to be afraid for me this time."

"And yet here I am fearing," she answered, looking out the window. "You shouldn't have to go back to battle. Not so soon. You're injured, you're weakened, and your mental state isn't anywhere _near_ to the point you can be sent back to battle. If you leave now, like this… It could doom you…"

He was quiet, watching her and then turning to the window again. She was right, he knew… So why was he going…? Why was he asking? He knew the answer. He was going because he had both a death wish and a burning urge to make the creature suffer for all the pain and anguish he'd caused. "Goodbye, Elsa," he answered, moving passed her. She said nothing in return, head bowed. He paused at the door, looking back at her. "I'll come back," he promised.

"Make sure when you come back, that you come back alive," she answered.

He smirked and chuckled at the reply. "As my lady queen commands," he answered.

"Since when have you done anything anyone's commanded you?" she asked with an exasperated sigh.

He couldn't help but laugh at this, impressed with her little show of wit. It was the first time he'd heard his own laugh in so long… It actually almost scared him. "Since never," he answered. "But there are always exceptions to the rules." Elsa smiled at this. _There_ was a glimmer of what he had been before… So it wasn't totally lost after all. For that she was more grateful than anyone would ever know. It meant hope.

Frozen

Hans sat with his brothers—minus Moren and Rhun, both of whom had opted out of this. Moren forced, Rhun by choice—watching the sky. They were on the backlines, along with the Duke of Cumberland. It was at the insistence of the elf king. Let the fae face the fae first and foremost. Then anything that somehow managed to trickle through, _they_ could deal with. They watched said elf king. He was deep in conversation with a very young seeming elf who looked entirely too much like the king for it to be coincidence. The young one was his son, then. It was apparent the two were arguing. No doubt the Elven King was ordering the Elven Prince back farther in the line so that he wouldn't be on the front. The elfin prince was having none of that though, it seemed, insisting that he would stay by his father's side.

Hans glanced worriedly over at the Duke of Cumberland who surely was witnessing it too. Oh, he was witnessing it alright. And turning away from it with a look of such raw grief… His eyes were screwed tightly shut, his head turned from the scene, and tears could be seen. Hans felt a tightening in his throat and quickly looked away. Now wasn't the time to weaken. At least, though, the elf king and his heir had ceased their conversation. "They'll be upon us very soon now," Iscawin remarked to his brothers.

"Any minute. They already are, further up the lines," Kelin-Sel agreed. Sure enough, screams of pain or fear from sprites and pixies and fairies all were starting to echo through the night. The human armies began to pace. They would be the last front. With luck, none of those things would reach them. They weren't holding up high hopes that would be the case, though. The trolls barrelled into the armies of the elf king and immediately screams echoed louder. The elves were the obvious victors already, but the trolls weren't stopping to fight. They were pushing through, determined to break the lines at whatever cost. The human armies drew their weapons, eyes narrowed as some of the creatures began tearing through mindlessly. A large contrast to the evil sprites who were taking things more tactically now that they had their kin to contend with.

The trolls bellowed madly and began ripping through the mortal armies, and in some cases ripping them _apart_. Literally. The brothers charged towards six trolls who had fallen on them. Two princes, three in one case, to each troll. The trolls didn't last more than five minutes before the brothers of the Southern Isles had ended them. Hans looked over to check on the Duke of Cumerland. He and his army was doing well against the other trolls, as was Weselton's under Erik and Francis's leadership. The Duke of Weselton was too old to be in any battle like this. The old coot wouldn't have lasted ten minutes, though to be fair that man was a feisty little spitfire. Far more capable than anyone gave him credit for, in fact. Which was evidenced, suddenly, by the appearance of the shadows and the horrified shrieking of trolls as these things they were completely and totally unfamiliar with began tearing them asunder. The fight, though, most precarious and most pivotal, was happening between two alone. The sprite empress and her son…

Frozen

"So this is the path you choose to follow. Despite everything I taught you, everything I bled to impart to you, this is the path you choose," Farah said to Carabis, tone slightly saddened, but also resolved. If this was the path her child decided to walk, then he would die like the scum he was. "You murdered your father. Your sister. All of your people… For what? Why?"

Carabis smirked evilly. "Because I could. They were in the way," he answered. "Gran' Pabbie should have left well-enough alone. I mean a human grandson? Laughable. The trolls in the Valley of the Living Rock long ago outlived their usefulness and grew soft. So they died. They died like pigs led to slaughter. My only regret is not taking the time to find their children too."

"I will drive you back. As I should have long ago," she said. "You will never have Arendelle, you will never have the mirror again. You've lost before you've begun. The princes are out of your reach now, Carabis. Can't you see nothing will corrupt them anymore?"

"Look again, mother, at the youngest. He is still fresh for the picking," Carabis answered. The sprite empress's jaw twitched slightly. She knew there was truth in Carabis's words.

"In the end, he will overcome it," she stated.

"By then it will be too late. If not for anyone else, than at least for him," Carabis answered.

"Your campaign ends. Now," Farah stated. Immediately she attacked Carabis with a powerful blast that knocked him from the air with a howl of anguish. When she cancelled the spell, he staggered up from it breathing heavily.

Carabis scowled darkly at his mother. "That's the game, then? So be it, mother. Witness the power of what you bore." He shot towards her at a blinding speed, tackling her with a bellow and channelling a powerful spell into her that had her screaming in agony almost immediately. She quickly countered, though, with a fireball to the face that made Carabis yelp and leap about three feet back, clawing at his eyes. "You little harpy!" he shrieked.

She attacked him again wordlessly, slashing at him with her sword, channelling her power, and forcing him to slip into more defensive actions to stay alive. "You have failed, Carabis," she said. "You will never have Arendelle! And you will never have the princes."

Carabis was silent. Arendelle no, but the princes, on the other hand… Oh, he would have the princes. Or if not, he would still have the next best thing. Granted it might not be as powerful as it would be if Hans took up the mantle, but it would still be only just shy of the original in power. Or equal to. He had wandered and raged a very long time, after all. He smirked darkly at his mother. "Mod'du!" he suddenly roared so loudly that all of the armies clear to the palace could hear it. The empress of the sprites paled to hear the name and sharply looked back towards the princes of the Southern Isles.

Frozen

On hearing the roar, Caleb's body tensed up and he straightened himself, eyes wide in horror. "No…" he whispered. That name... Tell him he hadn't heard that name! It had been found. Oh god! Elsa looked quickly and worriedly at him. "We have to get to the battle field! Now!" he said to her urgently. Quickly he turned, moving as swiftly as he could manage to. She followed, now fearful.

Rhun burst into the room. "Moren, he called…" Rhun, near panic, began.

"We heard it. Get to the stables!" Moren commanded. Rhun, pale, didn't need to be told twice. He shot ahead of Elsa and Caleb to prepare the two horses. Elsa would ride her ice mare, he realized.

Hans and his brothers froze on hearing the call. "Tell me I didn't hear that," Connyn said. "Please tell me I imagined it."

"He's found him!" Jürgen exclaimed, now alarmed.

Suddenly there was a dark roar. The princes spun around quickly. From the darkness of an ally, totally unexpected, charged the most massive and dark bear they had ever seen in their lives! They paled. "Run!" Mael ordered, immediately trying to strike against it with his powers. He cried out in pain as it swiped at him before he could, sending him to the ground. It didn't stop to maul the prince, though. The beast charged through the brothers and Hans paled. It was coming for _him_!

Hans shouted a curse in panic, drawing his sword. The bear leapt at him with an enraged roar, paws outstretched. Hans lunged, stabbing it. The sword did precious little, and it took the young prince to the ground. He met its eyes and his lips slowly parted in horror. In them he saw reflected the man, the ancestor, it had once been; and the way that ancestor looked at him…

 _He saw himself at his darkest…_

The bear went at him. Hans put up his arm and the massive jaws clamped around it. The youngest prince screamed in anguish. The bear viciously began shaking him, dragging his body through the dirt and pawing at him. Not to kill, though. It was 'playing'. It wanted him to suffer. It wanted him to see and know and feel its power so that he could realize what he was dealing with… And see what it was he could gain if he chose power… Oh how he felt its power, and this wasn't a fraction of it. The bear stood up on its back legs, lifting the prince from the ground and shaking him, throwing him back towards his brothers. Duach caught him and quickly put him down, placing himself between the bear and Hans. As did all the others. The bear roared again and charged a second time.

"Hold steady! Don't let it reach Hans!" Jürgen ordered. Hans was too shocked to protest, eyes fixed on the massive form in awe and wonder. This beast was unlike anything he'd seen before… Suddenly an arrow whizzed through the air, striking the bear. It wasn't injured, much, just startled enough to search for the source. Moren, Elsa, and Rhun were approaching! Rhun had fired a crossbow at it. Mor'du roared in outrage and continued his charge, again batting away the princes like they were flies and descending on Hans. This time, though, Hans nimbly rolled out of the way and cut at the bear's legs, slashing them deeply. It roared in pain, going at him again. Again Hans dodged and an ice wall sprang up, dividing Mor'du from him. The bear, of course, charged it with intent to shatter. The first tackle cracked the barrier. The second tackle shook it farther. The third broke through, but Hans met it by driving his sword into the bear's open mouth. The bear roared in anguish, struggling to pull free. It jerked the prince's sword right out of his hands and began pawing at it. It soon pulled it out and tossed it down.

"That should have killed him!" Hans exclaimed, diving for the sword and moving out of the way. Oh wait. Wasn't there something in the Song of Mor'du or the legend that said not even the power of an entire tribe could take him down? Which really didn't make sense if Mor'du was only granted the strength of ten men and a bear form. Apparently the power of ten men was the _least_ this thing possessed. He recalled, now, something about the strength of another bear being the only thing that would beat him. Which again didn't make sense to him because ten men could take down a bear without even a second thought. Hell, one man handy with a bow or gun could do it if he was skilled. Apparently there were more clauses to this curse than he'd begun to imagine. But damn, that raw _power_ … It was something to marvel at.

Mor'du went at Hans again, but suddenly something sprang up with a shriek, beastly and grotesque. So much so that the bear backed away in something akin to terror. Hans gaped in disbelief. One of the shadows! It began to warp and twist itself into the bear's shadow. From there it attacked ferociously. It wouldn't win, of course, not if the curse forbade that, but it would be their saving grace and send this creature running. Sure enough the bear, confused and frantically swiping of what basically amounted to nothing, was being backed farther and farther away. In fact, _all_ of the attackers were, as the shadows possessed one shadow after another so that no one knew where to expect them to pop out next. It was like a horror story, and it was apparent the wicked sprites and trolls didn't want _any_ part in _that_ nonsense.

Frozen

Meanwhile, the sprite empress had driven her son violently into the ground and now hovered over him, prepared to end his life. "Now, Carabis, you pay for the lives you took," she said. She lunged at him, but suddenly Carabis struck her with a spell that made her cry out in pain. Damn, she'd thought she'd drained his magic! He rose, withdrawing his own sword and going for her. Suddenly, though, the Fairy Queen and the Elven King were there, defending their sprite counterpart. Carabis leapt back about a foot, focused now on the Elven King who was obviously at the top of his form and presenting more of a challenge with a blade than Carabis could hope to match. And the illusions… He was seeing things that weren't there. Changes that weren't happening. The elf was inside his head, dammit!

Queen Clarion quickly cancelled out the spell on Farah, and Farah went at her son again the instant she was free. This time Carabis couldn't stand, and he was steadily being driven back with his army. "Return from whence you came!" Farah commanded. "Do not make me call forth Pharabou. She is caretaker of the shadows, and when her presence is realized, my child…" Farah darkly chuckled and pointedly looked towards she shadows that now reigned supreme on this battle field.

Carabis roared in outrage and bellowed once more. A wordless command to retreat. He looked murderously back at his mother. "They have not seen the last of me!" he shouted at her. "I will have the mirror again!" Furiously he vanished as the wicked sprites and trolls, at least those that had survived the battle, fled in abject terror from the unseen armies…

Frozen

Gradually things began to settle. Finally Moren dared approach the faerie trio. "My Lord, My Ladies," he said to them cautiously. The rulers of the sprites, fairies and pixies, and elves turned to him. "Thank you," he said. "For all you have done for our sakes." He looked at the elf king. "I will keep my word to you. The Duke of Cumberland has agreed to it," he said as said Duke rode up alongside him, looking at the elf king suspiciously.

"I dislike the idea of giving such power to the fae," he said.

"The fae do not require the power of the mirror," the elf king replied. "Carabis lusts for it, lusts for what it can bring, but we have no need for it in the end. It is something he fails to understand, it would seem."

The Duke of Cumberland, though still uneasy, nodded. "I do not trust you, erl-king."

"Nor should you," the elf answered. "Nor do I trust you, and all is as it should be. My work here is done." He lifted his hand ever so slightly, barely perceivably, and every elf on the field fell into line, to Moren's awed wonder. The elves turned, then, and left without a word, following their king.

"It was all my pleasure to help you in battle against the one whose actions led to the murder of my old friend's child," Clarion said to the Duke of Cumberland. "You must be strong, Duke. Live for your son. I know what you desire to do to yourself, but it isn't the way… He died so you could live. Don't forget it." The Duke was silent, for a moment looking torn. Clarion nodded. She could say nothing more. He would do what he would do, and she wouldn't blame or condemn him either way. She flew up into the air and her fairies and pixies followed her. Spiralling high above, they soon vanished towards the stars.

Farah turned to Moren and the Duke, after watching Clarion and her company vanish. "Where is the young Ice Harvester?" she asked.

"At the castle," Elsa, until then silent—mainly because she was fussing over Hans's heavily bleeding arm, Hans certainly not arguing the attention and happier than he had any right to be that she was so near and cared so much—answered as she finished dressing the wound with dressings she'd crafted of snow and ice.

Farah nodded. "Take me to him," she said, gesturing for all of her people to return to their land. She would follow soon enough. Elsa turned to her and nodded.

Frozen

Kristoff listened in silence, head hung and tears slipping from his eyes, as the sprite empress spoke. "It is for the best. You know this. One day you will rule them all, but until then… My people will take in the troll children. They will be treated well and raised as trolls, not as sprites. You know they cannot stay here among the humans who do not understand and in fact hate them. When they are grown, they will be returned to the Valley of the Living Rock, and you will be their King," she said.

"I know they'll be better off, I just… I don't want to let them go… They're…" Kristoff began. His voice hitched and he paused, drawing in a shaky breath. Anna silently wrapped her arms around her husband in a quiet reassurance. "They're all I have left of my family…" Kristoff managed to finish.

"No they aren't. Look around you, Kristoff. These are your family now, just as much as the trolls were. That was what Gran' Pabbie tried so hard to impress to you. These are your family," Farah softly said. Kristoff looked around at those who were in the room with him. Kai, Gerda, Elsa, the Duke of Weselton with Francis and Erik, Olaf, Sven, the Princes of the Southern Isles… Anna… Always Anna. His eyes filled with love and he pulled Anna close, rocking her gently. He couldn't lose her. Ever. He'd never survive that. She smiled softly, content in his arms. Elsa glanced away and immediately hated the fact that it was Hans she saw. Both of them blushed and turned away from one another again. Ooh, this just got awkward.

"You're right," Kristoff admitted. Farah nodded.

Soon the troll children were brought up from hiding. They immediately went to Kristoff, snuggling and hugging him tightly, crying. He cried with them, holding them close and promising them over and over that they'd be alright and he'd come visit them. He promised them he'd see them again, and that one day soon they'd be able to go home together. Once the goodbyes were said, Farah gently cast a spell over the little ones who disappeared, waving sadly at Kristoff. Kristoff tried hard not to break down again, swallowing over the lump in his throat. That attempt failed, and he sobbed.

"Now I go to pay my last respects to Pabbie and the fallen trolls. I will bless the Valley of the Living Rock so that it will remain pristine for when the trolls are ready to resettle it again. Noting else will make their home in that place until then. I promise it," Farah said. With that, she faded away too, and the others stayed close by Kristoff as he grieved.


	25. Proposal

Proposal

(A/N: And last chapter. One was posted a couple days ago for anyone who may have missed that update. Hans/Elsa fans will probably love this chapter. Unfortunately, don't think it's this easy just yet. As always, final A/N, probably short depending, is at the bottom.)

It wasn't long after the battle's end before Arendelle's citizens, until then hidden in a secret keep, returned to their homes. Within a week things were back to normal once more. More or less. The Duke of Weselton and company left to return to their land. The old man had a bargain to keep with the shadows. Shadows he frankly still didn't trust. In fact, he'd taken to glaring distrustfully and warningly at his own. He'd read up a bit on Pharabou and the land of the shadows—information had been found in some old Arabic and Persion texts for some reason—and he now knew that everyone's shadow was indeed a, well, shadow. On first glance that probably wouldn't make sense, but you got the picture!

Back in Arendelle, the brothers were preparing to sail for the Southern Isles again. Hans and Rhun walked down the hallway to where the Duke of Cumberland had been put up to stay. He had asked they be sent in to him. Though uneasy, they had gone. After all, the man was free of the mirror's influence now. There was no more reason to fear him. As Aaron had so often insisted in life, he was a good man. They entered the room where the Duke sat, woefully gazing out the window. He turned to the two. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said to them before they could speak. "Sorry will never make what happened to you two go away. It will never make it better… But it's all I can offer anymore. I am so, so sorry…"

They were silent. "It wasn't you who gave those orders," Rhun finally answered.

"But it was," the Duke replied.

"Under the influence of a corrupt and twisted mirror's shards," Rhun said. "But you won't have to worry about them anymore, my lord Duke. They are under the Elf King's protection now."

"I won't have to worry about anything anymore," the Duke muttered. "I intend to end my life… A final penance for all the wrongs I have done…"

"Don't. Please. He died so you wouldn't have to. Will you really throw that away?" Hans asked.

"Before the mirrors and windows I had always been known as a fair judge, even when the just punishment turned out to be death… The just punishment for me and all that I've done is death… Had Aaron known that, had I told him as much, perhaps he would still be alive… I can't go on without my son and my wife… I don't have the strength… I've poisoned myself already, you know… It won't be long now. Please, don't try to save me or talk me out of it. Just send my remains home to be buried alongside my family," the man said.

"What of the power vacuum that will open up in Cumberland with your death? Sir Duke, you can't…" Rhun began.

"Cumberland will be alright again. Perhaps the elf king may see it fit to _ensure_ it is until another ruler is placed on the throne. And if he doesn't, it's alright, because my land will recover. It always has," the Duke said. He began coughing. Hans and Rhun quickly went to him as he started to waver. He was nearly gone, they saw. "My love, my son, I will meet you both soon," he whispered to the sky. Hans and Rhun sat him down gently and stayed with him. Minutes later, the man was gone. Hans had stopped looking at him long ago now. Rhun knew his brother was in no position to deal with this. Silently he picked up the body with a grunt and brought it away from the prince, who remained put. He would for a long time. This time Hans's being alone was for the best. He would come down to join them again eventually.

Hans silently looked at the scene outside, peaceful and happy… Would he ever feel at peace or happy again, he wondered? For a moment, following the Duke's example seemed so tempting… He had _never_ felt at peace or happy, he realized. How could he feel it again? Was there really even any point in living on? There would be no happily ever after for him. There were no happily ever afters for the Princes of the Southern Isles. Happily ever after was an illusion, a lie… It was why so few of his stories _had_ a genuine happily ever after. Almost always it was tragic or bittersweet, because happy endings were ideals concocted by fantasy and wishes. He shook his head and rose, leaving the room.

 _Two Months Later_

Elsa looked out the window silently as her advisors continued blabbing on and on about how it was high time she chose the man she was going to marry, and that if none of those from the first round of suitors struck her fancy, that she should arrange a second round. She'd tuned them out long ago, though. It had been the same thing at least once every week for years now. She was so sick of hearing it. "You're dismissed," she suddenly said, cutting them off in the middle of whatever it was they'd been saying.

"Your Majesty…" one began.

"I said you're dismissed," she repeated, glaring back at them. "I'll think on your words and have a decision on what I'll do by tomorrow."

They were quiet. "Very well, Queen Elsa," another advisor answered. Without another word, they left. At least they'd finally gotten her to act.

Elsa sighed heavily, going to her throne and falling into it, leaning her head back. "Rough day, sis?" Anna asked, coming into the room as the advisors were leaving, glaring after them. She knew they were pressuring her sister, and she had half a mind to deck them for it, but she refrained.

"You have no idea. Give me good news. Please," Elsa pled.

"Well, chocolate cake for dessert tonight," Anna replied, smiling.

"Oh that's the best news I've had in forever," Elsa answered, giggling.

"It solves all life's problems," Anna said, giggling as well. Her smile became uneasy. "And…" She trailed off.

"And what?" Elsa asked, curiously looking at Anna.

Anna hesitated and drew a deep breath. "And Kristoff and I are… are trying for a baby," she admitted.

Elsa blinked blankly. What now? "What?" she asked, unsure she'd heard correctly.

Anna flushed. "We're trying for a baby," she replied.

"You're… Oh my god… Anna, are you serious?" Elsa asked, standing up. Anna nodded. Elsa blinked then began to laugh. Anna looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Sis, that's amazing!" Elsa exclaimed, running to her sister and taking her into her arms.

Anna grinned. "You think?" she asked hopefully.

"You'll make an amazing mother, Anna! And Kristoff will be a great dad! This is so exciting!" Elsa exclaimed.

"Whoa, calm down Elsa, I'm not pregnant yet," Anna replied, giggling.

"Anna, I'm so happy for you," Elsa replied, pulling her sister into a hug. Anna hugged her tightly back. As Elsa looked over her sister's shoulder, though, her smile slowly fell to a sad frown as the weight of this hit her.

 _You could have had that…_

She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, and focused again on being happy for her sister. "I'm a little jealous you're going to be both married and a mother before your big sister, though," she teased.

"Married yes, a mother is yet to be seen," Anna answered.

"You will be. I don't even have a husband yet," she said.

Anna's smile fell. "But you will. You told the advisors you'd have your answer by tomorrow." Elsa's smile fell too. So she had… "I know you aren't going to go through another round of suitors, which means… which means you've decided to pick from the ones that were left… Who will you choose, Elsa…? Edvard?" She asked hopefully, but she knew it wouldn't be the case. She almost didn't want to hear the answer she knew she'd be given. She wanted Elsa to choose anyone else _but_ him… But at the same time there was no one she would rather see her sister with more… Except maybe Iscawin, but Iscawin, despite all his efforts, had never connected to Elsa like… like Hans…

Elsa looked away, then back to Anna. She knew her sister knew what her answer would be. "I won't choose him if you don't want me to," she said.

"I want you to choose who you love," Anna said.

"I don't love anyone, Anna… It will be a marriage of convenience. That's why I'm giving you this call. If you don't want me to choose him, I won't. I'll be content with Iscawin or Edvard," she said.

"But happy with him," Anna said.

"No. Content," Elsa answered firmly.

"Why do you keep telling yourself that you don't love him?" Anna asked.

"I know my own heart, sis. Despite what you think, or anyone, I don't love him," Elsa answered. "Well, I do. Dearly. Only as an intimate friend, though. He'll keep up with me better than his brother or Edvard, that's about it. If you don't want me to pick him, I won't."

"You know your heart, Elsa… In everything _but_ love," Anna answered. She didn't argue, though. "If he'll be the most satisfying choice for you, then take him… I've begun to start to tolerate him again anyway. He's… not _so_ bad." It would be a long time before she completely forgave him, but she was taking steps in that direction. "I'm okay with it. Really I am."

Elsa smiled softly at her sister and hugged her again. "Thank you," she said.

Frozen

"She's made her decision," Moren said to his siblings suddenly over breakfast. At least, he could only deduce as much from the phrases 'urgent matter' and 'involves you and your brothers intimately' and 'isn't a matter of war or danger'.

"Uh, what?" Franz asked. That was random.

"She's chosen a suitor. From among us. _All_ of us who are single," Moren said, glaring pointedly at Jürgen. Jürgen tensed up, but he wasn't alarmed. He knew it wasn't him she'd choose. "By tonight she'll arrive. She'll give me her decision. If the one she chooses agrees to be with her, an engagement will begin and talk of a wedding date will start." Hans was silent, looking only at his food.

 _It won't be you. Monsters do not deserve to reap rewards; let alone rewards they're not even sure they want._

"Dress your best and assemble in the throne room within the next three hours. She'll arrive before dinner and join us, and her new fiancé, for the meal," Moren said.

 _She should have chosen Edvard. Or Iscawin at least. Wait, you're not sure she didn't choose Iscawin. After all, what possible reason does she have to choose you? Especially when Anna's opinion is involved heavily in her choice._

"I have to go," Hans said, rising and leaving without waiting for an argument. Iscawin watched silently after his brother and hung his head.

 _You wish it would be you she chooses. Hans wishes it would be you too… But she won't, and you know she won't… You and he will both mourn and rejoice when her answer is given._

He closed his eyes. "I have to leave too," he said quietly, standing and walking quickly away. There was silence at the table. Oh boy. This was going to get interesting.

Frozen

"Announcing Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" the crier stated as the brothers sat on their thrones. Hans tensed slightly. His shoulders sagged and he bowed his head before looking up once more. The doors to the throne room opened and in she strode, followed by her entourage, graceful as ever they had seen her… His eyes watched her every movement before he tore them away and looked down again. Elsa knelt gracefully before Moren and his brothers, bowing her head.

"Queen Elsa, rise, please. There is no need for such formality. Tell me, sister. Why have you come on such short notice? It sounded urgent," Moren questioned gently. It was just a formality that he asked, though. As established, he already had guessed at what the answer would be.

"It was," she replied, rising and folding her hands in front of her, facing Moren boldly. "I've come for my sister's sake, not my own… Anna wishes to become pregnant. Very soon. Before that can happen, her marriage to Kristoff must be observed and seen as official among Arendelle's populace through a show wedding."

"Why have you come here telling this to us?" Moren questioned.

"Because by law a royal child can't marry until their elder siblings, if there are any, have," Elsa answered. Honestly it was an obscure law pretty well anyone would overlook if she had a mind to deny it or bring an end to it, but… She quickly stopped the thought process. No, law was law. She had to do this. She had no choice.

 _Yes you do. That law isn't even why you're here. You have a choice. You just wish you didn't._

"Before my sister can be with the man she loves without scandal, I must marry. So I come to you because I know in my heart that if I must be wed, I would as soon wed amongst the rulers of the Southern Isles, for the sake of an alliance that cannot be broken. Such a union would only benefit my people and yours, and if I don't marry by choice, I marry for the protection of my land. The stronger my own political ties, the greater chance I have."

"You come to claim a husband," Caleb said. "My lady, if it is your wish, and if my brothers should agree, then take your pick of them, all those who are not wed. They will become yours. You need only ask. Have you chosen among us?"

"I… I have," Elsa stated. Hans closed his eyes tightly and hung his head low, balling his hands in front of him. Those words should not hurt like they did. "Only I'm afraid he will not accept."

"Lady, no man of sound mind could ever refuse you," Hans murmured quietly. "Marriage of convenience or not, the one who has won your approval will be forever blessed to have called you his wife." Her gaze turned to him silently. Quietly she watched him.

"Speak his name, and I will give him to you, should he desire it," Moren said, causing her to turn back to him. "Which of us have you chosen as your prince consort?"

Elsa drew in a deep breath and looked around at the princes. This was it. There was no going back if she said a name now. There were no second thoughts or chances. If she spoke now, she spoke for forever. Hans shut his eyes tightly, willing back a threatening wave of pain. He looked up once more, steeling himself for her announcement. She turned back to Moren soon enough.

 _What are you doing? Do_ _ **you**_ _even know?_

She pushed aside the thought quickly. "I choose Prince Hans!" she declared loudly and boldly.

Frozen

Her entourage started in shock, looking at their queen in wide-eyed disbelief. Even the princes and king, who had expected as much, looked stunned at the certainty in her voice. Hans's mouth was dropped in disbelief. What? She just… Had she…? Moren blinked. "Prince… Hans," he repeated. He looked over at his stunned little brother who looked totally and completely bowled over, frozen in place and staring at Elsa in wide-eyed shock. Iscawin closed his eyes tightly. "So be it," Moren stated, recovering himself. "Hans?" Hans shook himself out of the frozen state and looked quickly at his sibling. "Will you go with her?"

Hans looked back at Elsa and rose slowly, numbly. She looked down at the ground. "Why?" he whispered barely loud enough to be heard, had the room not been dead silent already. "Why me?"

She looked up at him. "Answer yes or answer no," she replied. "Will you accept?"

He could only stare at her in disbelief. "I am the man who left your sister to die. The man who would have killed you. I am the traitor. I am the Chameleon who has worn so many masks and told so many lies that he doesn't even know who he is anymore. Why me?" he asked again.

She turned to him. "Answer yes or no," she repeated again, firmer this time. There would not be another chance for him to reply, and she made that clear in her voice.

He was silent, and for a horrible moment she believed he would refuse. "A thousand times yes," he finally answered. "Yes… I will go with you." She blinked rapidly, processing what she'd just heard. He… he'd accepted! Her heart had no right to be thumping within her as loudly as it was. She looked up at him, eyes filled with gratefulness. He approached her and took her hands in his, leaning his forehead against her own. "But don't choose me if it will only bring you bad memories and pain," he whispered. She looked sharply up at him. "I don't want to bring you pain," he said. "Not ever again… And it's all I've ever been able to do…" And all he would continue to, he feared.

"That's for me to worry about, not you," she answered. "I choose you."

"Elsa, please…" he began.

"I choose you," she repeated again, firmer this time. "Whatever suffering comes of it is on my heart alone."

"But it isn't," he answered.

"It _will_ be," she promised.

"No. Never again will you face something like that alone," Hans stated. "It will be shared by both of us or neither." Elsa blushed faintly and looked away.

"So be it. The engagement is set. Best you start planning for a wedding date, sister," Caleb said, unable to help the faint smirk that crossed his lips. It was almost as if she hadn't heard him.

"He's spoken to you," Hans prompted in a whisper, a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes again. She'd missed it. She'd been afraid it would never be seen again.

Elsa turned to Caleb. "I will," she replied. " _We_ will."

"Good. Now we go to dinner and discuss plans," Moren said. He turned to Hans. "I wish you all the luck and happiness in the world, baby brother."

"I admit you'll be missed around here," Duach remarked. "It'll seem almost empty not being able to push you around and bully you." Hans started and gave his brother a scathing and unimpressed look. Ugh, this couldn't have come at a better time, he decided. Duach snickered with the triplets and Rhun.

"Yeah. Laugh it up," Hans bit sharply. Elsa squeezed his hand gently, smiling at him in a way that instantly pacified his growing anger and annoyance. He smiled back at her gently and pulled her close, holding her to himself. Even if this was indeed only a marriage of convenience, even if the love they shared that apparently neither he nor she understood was just intimate friendship, he knew he would be content in it. Perhaps even happy... Maybe happily ever afters _could_ exist?

 _You're lying to yourself, prince… And before this is done, you will be the traitor again. She will see what you really are. A betrayer is all you'll ever be… You will run in fear, you will sabotage, you will try to make her hate you, and you_ _ **will**_ _betray her to the point of death. You were lost long ago. You are a monster, not a man. You are me. You are the mirror…_

* * *

A/N: Next story will be the figurative 'season finale' before the second part of this series starts up. Haven't planned overmuch into that yet, but a good few ideas are in place. So now an engagement is underway, but how it plays out is yet to be seen. Trust me, things are going to get a lot more complicated now that Mor'du is in the picture alongside the evil hobgoblin. The trolls are gone, say for the little ones who are being raised by the Sprite Empress and her folk, the shards of the mirror that had been made into looking glasses and windows are now in the custody of the Elven King, but trouble is lurking. Trouble that'll finally push things to their limit. Thank you all for reading and reviewing and for your continued support. It means a lot to me. I know I've said that before, but it does and I'll keep saying as much.


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